


The Good Hair Family Sitcom

by DonTheRock



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Comedy, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Gay, Lesbian Character, M/M, Marriage, Married Life, No Smut, Romance, Sitcom, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 170
Words: 291,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24217156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonTheRock/pseuds/DonTheRock
Summary: {4 seasons}"We've got one good family," I say."We do," Cyrus agrees. "Dysfunctional but good."*********Tyrus, Ambi, Muffy, and Wonah are adults now, but growing up and having families brings new kinds of challenges. Through the complications of them and their kids, their life-long friendship is the one thing they can always rely on.3 seasons!This is my application to Disney to write an Andi Mack spin-off series for ABC in twenty years. Disney, please consider.A continuous story. New "episodes" regularly.Based on Disney's Andi Mack.Ages 13+. Dramatic comedy (at least that's what I'm attempting). No smut. Infrequent coarse language. References to sexuality/drugs/alcohol.
Relationships: Amber/Andi Mack, Buffy Driscoll/Marty, Cyrus Goodman/T. J. Kippen, Jonah Beck/Walker Brodsky
Comments: 726
Kudos: 293





	1. S1 E1.1: Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> This is something new I'm trying. I've got tons of ideas, so I'm super excited to share them with you, and I've really liked writing this so far. I hope you like it :)

**Cyrus's POV**

"TJ, where do we keep the placemats?" I ask.

"Check the cabinet in the dining room," TJ responds.

I wind around the pillar separating the kitchen from the dining room and kneel down at the back by the tall, black cabinet that me and my husband received when we first moved in here at twenty-one. It was a gift from Amber that she got at an antique shop. A swirly pattern is carved into the door faces, showcasing its beauty, and the wood grain shines through. However, the base of the structure is covered in dents, many of them having been created in the last week from the RC car that my ten year-old son's been driving around the house since the day he got it. I would regret buying him that, but he actually saved up his allowance to pay for it, so the trashing of all the furniture is just an unfortunate side effect of his financial responsibility.

I find the stack of wicker placemats and begin laying them out on the dining room table. My friends are coming over for dinner in a couple hours, and they're bringing their families. This will be the first time I'm seeing Buffy since she and her family got back from their vacation to Disneyland, so I want everything to be perfect. Once I have the dining table set, I go back into the kitchen to check the list I left on the island to see what is still needed to be done.

"Okay, tables are set," I mutter to myself. "Living room is cleaned. Dinner is cooking, which smells great by the way!" I spin around to look at my husband who's busy stirring a pot on the stove. "What are you making?"

TJ smiles as I wander over to take a look at the liquid simmering that's making the whole place smell of savoury vegetables and spices.

"This is the vegan gravy," he answers. "The shepherds pie is in the oven."

"Yum," I reply. "Okay, so we have almost everything done. What am I missing?"

The answer comes as a slam to my foot, and I look down to see a familiar red toy truck attempting to climb my ankle. _My kids._ The vehicle backs up before zooming forward again, using my foot as a ramp to launch itself into the air. I turn to where my son is standing at the bottom of the stairwell, holding the remote.

"Wyatt," I call. "I told you no stunt jumps."

"But Papa told me go big or go home."

I shoot my eyes to TJ, who just grins innocently back at me.

"You're a bad influence," I say, a smile peaking through.

I give up my stern look quickly as my eyes flick down to TJ's mouth, and TJ notices the hint, stepping in to give me a soft kiss on the lips.

"Ew!" Wyatt shouts as we part. "Cooties!"

"Wyatt, that's not how cooties work," I respond. "You catch those from the opposite gender."

"Yeah," TJ supports. "Gays are immune."

"Like how Superman is immune to green kryptonite?" Wyatt chirps, lighting up.

"Yes, exactly like that," I confirm, although I have no idea whether that's actually true or not.

"Cool!"

Wyatt's car steers back toward the stairs where he picks it up and carries it. On his way up, he passes by his sister, fourteen year-old Jayda who currently has her face scrunched in anger as she stomps into the kitchen and swings open the fridge. TJ and I watch as she fights with the orange juice jug, aggressively yanking it from its spot before shoving the door closed and unscrewing the cap. 

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"I'm fine," the girl snaps.

"Yes, I believe those were my exact words right before I drove into a library when I was seventeen," TJ reminisces.

Jayda glares up at her dad before going over to the cabinet and grabbing a glass.

"Well, are you going to be ready for when the relatives get here?" I check.

"It doesn't matter, because I'm not going to talk to them," she huffs.

"What do you mean?" I question, my worry doubling.

"I mean," she says, spinning to face me with grumpy eyes, "I don't want to see anyone. I'm not in the mood."

She pours orange juice into her glass and takes a sip. Next, she picks up the juice jug and begins bringing it back to the fridge, but then she thinks twice and decides to just take it with her back up the stairs to her room. With her gone, I turn to TJ and release a sigh.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

After only a second of moving, Andi has to step on the brake again as the car in front of us jolts to another stop. The whole highway is backed up with red lights as far as I can see, and the honking in the distance is definitely not helping my wife stay optimistic. Beside her, I watch Andi's patience dissolve more and more every time she has to stop again, while our thirteen year-old daughter, Hazel, sits on her phone, only looking up every time her mom groans in annoyance.

"Why is there traffic?" Andi growls. "I don't even see an accident ahead."

"Relax," I tell her. "We have plenty of time."

"We don't have plenty of time. You're just comfortable with being late."

"Sorry, it's a Kippen thing."

The car shifts forward again but halts just as quickly, only a few inches keeping our baby blue Honda from rear-ending the vehicle in front. 

"Why can't people just drive!" Andi complains.

"Momma," says Hazel from the back as she leans forward to speak to me, "why is Mommy yelling?"

"She has road rage," I reply nonchalantly.

"I don't have road rage!" Andi huffs.

I nod kindly then look back at my daughter again, saying, "She's in denial."

"If you don't like me driving, then you can drive," Andi states.

I let out a chuckle. "I'm the reason bad driving is a stereotype for gays."

Seeing a window of opportunity, Hazel leans forward, saying, "I'll drive," to which Andi and I respond in unison, "No."

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

I glance out through the blinds in the living room of my townhouse, spotting something a tad off-putting.

"Hey, Jonah," I call. "I think we have a problem."

My husband enters the living room in his dress shirt and jeans, having chosen to look nice for the dinner with our friends. He comes over to window to see what's captured my attention, frowning when he sees it.

"You've got to be kidding me," he mutters.

Jonah rounds the furniture and heads for the front door. I follow him, stepping out onto the doorstep to get a better look at the giant SUV parked smack in front of our exit route.

"What kind of idiot parks in front of a driveway?" Jonah questions. "That's such a dumb thing to do."

"I think being dumb is a requirement for idiots," I respond.

"Well, what should we do?"

I shrug. "We still have a couple hours before we're supposed to be there. Let's wait and see if whoever owns the car moves it."

Jonah settles with that, nodding as we return inside our home. The car can't possibly stay there for that long, right?

________________________________________

**Cyrus's** **POV**

After completing a few more items on the list, I go upstairs to check on Jayda, but her bedroom door is still shut tight, a signal for everyone else to stay out. Respecting the barrier, I return downstairs to my husband in the kitchen, hoping to seek his advice.

"Should we do something?" I ask.

"She's still up there?" 

I nod. "I know teenagers are supposed to avoid their parents, but they usually aren't this mad when they do it."

"Hey, speak for yourself," he says. "I was angry at my parents for an entire year whenever I talked to them, so I never left my room."

"Yeah, but that's because you were afraid to come out to them, because you thought they wouldn't accept you. I'm about ninety-nine percent sure Jayda's not afraid of that with us."

"Well, what do you think we should do?"

"I don't know. I've read a million books on parenting and psychology, but it all seems to slip away when my actual kid is in a crises."

I think TJ can feel my distress, because he lets out a sigh and says, "I'll try to talk to her. But if it's about bras or periods, I'm going to need that book you gave me."

I laugh a little and step up to TJ, reaching out to lace our hands together, slowly like the petals of a rose curling into one another to greet the summer. Then I rise up on my tip toes to grace his cheek with a soft kiss. On the way back down, his eyes follow mine curiously.

"What was that for?" he asks.

"Do I need a reason to kiss you?" 

TJ smiles and brings his hand up to touch my face, moving a loose strand of hair out of my sightline. My eyes hold his for another moment, wading in the warmth of his gaze, before TJ steps back.

"Here goes," he says.

**TJ's POV**

I take another second to capture in as much of Cyrus's encouraging smile as I can before I spin around and ascend the stairs up to my daughter's room. After knocking on the door, she replies with a shout.

"What do you want?"

Carefully, I open the door and look in at Jayda sitting with a bag of chips upon her mauve polka-dotted bedspread. She keeps her earbuds in, listening to something play on her laptop while crunching another mouthful of the potato chips. On her nightstand is the jug of orange juice, which is now half empty.

"Hey," I say. "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

The teen shakes her head, shoving more chips into her face.

"Are you sure?" I press. "You know you can tell me anything."

"Not this," she insists. "I'm having boy problems. You wouldn't understand. Please just leave me alone."

I furrow my brows in puzzlement. _I wouldn't understand her boy problems? What the hell does she think I'm married to?_

Deciding not to push it, I comply with her request, mumbling, "Um...okay," as I pull the door shut again behind me.


	2. S1 E1.2: Pilot

**Amber's POV**

It's been nearly three quarters of an hour, and we've only moved what I could walk in five minutes. I'm trying to stay positive, focusing on the blue of the sky and the colourful flowers growing on the grass along the road, but Andi's aggravation only continues to grow.

"'Baby on board,' my ass," Andi barks, glaring at the car next to us. "There's no baby in that car!"

"How come Mom gets to swear, and I can't?" Hazel chimes from the backseat.

"When you can drive, you can swear," I reply.

Hazel lets out a huff and sinks back into her seat cushion. "You know this wouldn't have happened if we hadn't chosen to go to the bakery before going to Uncle TJ and Uncle Cyrus's, and you had just made the dessert."

"As far as your uncles will know, we did make the dessert," I retort.

I honestly can't bake for the life of me, and Andi was busy working on a sculpture for a company she was commissioned by, so really, buying a cake was the only solution. Yes, I could've tried making one, but I figured my friends and brother probably wouldn't want their kids getting food poisoning tonight.

"Also, Shauna at the bakery gives us free cookies when we go there," I add.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

"Kids, come on! It's time to go!" I call.

My eldest son comes running up the stairs from the basement, and my attention immediately goes to the scent that hits me as the fourteen year-old passes by in his T-shirt and jeans.

"Are you wearing body spray?" I question.

"Just a little."

"Why are you wearing body spray?"

"The chicks dig it," he says with a grin.

Footsteps sound out from behind, followed by the kiss on my head as Marty's arms wrap around me. But I can't process my husband's gesture right now. I'm too focused on my son's bizarre desire to smell like some kind of upper-class cedar tree.

"Marty, Andreas is wearing body spray."

"Ah, that explains why your room smells like a forest," Marty says to our son.

"I'm just tryna smell good for the ladies," Andreas says with a charming smile.

"The only ladies you're seeing tonight are your cousins," I remind him.

"Yeah, and the second you let your guard down, that's when they get you."

He continues on walking toward the mud room, leaving me only more confused.

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"No idea," Marty replies.

I forget about my first sone as soon as my second comes down from the upstairs in a neon orange, knit sweater that I've never seen before. I used to question him about where he gets some of his clothes, since it seems like he always has new items that I don't recognize, but honestly, as long as he's wearing clothes, and he's not in jail, I don't really care. 

"Brayden, you're going to get your shoes on?" I check.

"I was," the eleven year-old sasses. "But because you asked that, I might just go barefoot instead."

"Of course," I breathe as the boy carries on across the hardwood floor of the living room.

"Just one more," Marty says.

"Yeah, what is taking Cara so long?" I wonder then shout again, "Cara!"

The six year-old girl comes skipping down the stairs, dressed in her soccer jersey and a green tutu. When Andreas was little, I used to make sure what he wore matched and looked decent, but by the third kid, I learnt to just them wear what they want. It saves a lot of time, and honestly it makes mornings interesting finding out what random combination of clothes my daughter will put on each day.

Cara strolls toward the mud room, and Marty and I follow. There, our two sons are waiting with their shoes on, Andreas staring at his phone, and Brayden reading a book with a title that sounds like I was probably written in the early 1900s. But Cara, rather than going to put on her own shoes, reaches straight for the doorknob.

"Um, Cara," I say. "Don't forget your shoes."

She spins around and looks up at me, replying, "I'm not wearing shoes."

Marty kneels down to the little girl's height to speak to her personally. "You have to wear your shoes. Otherwise, you might step on something pointy and hurt your foot."

Cara sticks her nose up to the side and folds her arms over her chest as she says, "I don't like shoes anymore."

My husband glances back at me with a tired look. We didn't plan for this time delay. 

_______________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

My patience is gone by the next time I gaze out at my driveway being greeted again by the big hunk of metal on wheels blocking the garage. Walker comes over to stand by me as well, and we each silently evaluate the situation. We still have a while before we have to leave, but obviously whoever parked here isn't just stopping by. They're staying, and we have no idea who it is. Eventually, Walker makes a suggestion.

"We could try to go back out around it."

"If we go around it, we'll hit a tree," I respond.

"What happened to positive thinking?"

"That's what I have you for."

We just smile at each other for a second, getting lost in our own secret world. But the car dead in our window's view brings us back pretty fast.

"Should we call someone?" I ask.

"Who are you gonna call?"

Seeing the chance, I hold back a smile as I reply, "Ghostbusters?"

Walker turns his eyes to me, breaking into a laugh as he takes my hand.

"You're cute," Walker says.

"You're cuter," I respond, my grin matching Walker's in intensity.

"Well, you're gorgeous."

"And you're very handsome."

"And you're very sexy."

There's a single breath of tension before the elastic snaps, and the two of us fling together, our lips finding each other like second nature, which at this point, it is. With each kiss that follows, another spark flies through me, electrifying my breath and igniting my oxygen.

"What were we talking about?" I ask between kisses.

"I don't know," Walker replies.

His lips trace their way from my mouth down to my neck, only exciting the fire further.

"How much time do we have before we have to go?" I ask.

"Enough."

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

"Do you think she'll be in there all night?" Cyrus asks me.

I shrug. "I don't know. She seems really upset."

I finish putting the finishing garnishes on the shepherds pie while Cyrus sits on a stool at the island, his mind clearly still stuck on our daughter as he watches at the stairs with sad eyes. I'm concerned too, but I'm hoping she'll come out before our friends get here. As long as she doesn't want to talk, I don't see what I can do to help. 

All of a sudden, I'm shocked as the very girl we're both thinking about comes walking into the kitchen. She carries the empty juice jug over to the pantry and tosses it into the recycling bin.

"I'll add orange juice to the shopping list," Cyrus mutters.

Jayda continues to ignore both of us grabbing a box of Corn Pops from the pantry before starting back toward the stairs. _Damn it. Not the Corn Pops. I hardly got to have any of those._

"Jayda," I say, making her pause. "Can you talk to us? We love you, and we want to help you."

She whips around to face me and Cyrus, her sleek, black ponytail swinging straight out as she does.

"You can't help me," she states. "Not as long as stupid boys like Jeremy Hudson exist!"

She marches forth to her room, leaving me and Cyrus staring at the last place she was visible.

"Well, damn," I say. "Jeremy Hudson sounds like an jerk. What do we do? I don't understand how straight boys think."

"Let me handle it," Cyrus says. "I've had plenty of practice from that time when Buffy and Marty were broken up in high school."

"Okay," I agree.

When Cyrus turns to go upstairs, I tag along, wanting just to wait nearby in case Jayda needs me. I tell myself it's for Jayda, but I know it's really for myself. I won't be able to focus on anything else until I know she's okay. Cyrus knocks and enters in, while I stand in the hallway, peeking through the crack in the door that Cyrus leaves barely open after he enters in and plops down at the end of Jayda's bed. The girl's eyes are irritated from crying, which fractures my heart like an ice pick. I know that this is what happens to kids as they get older—they get hurt—but knowing and actually witnessing something are two very different things.

"So who's Jeremy Hudson?" Cyrus asks, his tone as gentle as snowfall.

"No one," Jayda answers. Then quieter, "Just a boy."

Cyrus stays silent, letting the empty space in the conversation push Jayda to try to fill it.

"We were thinging, sort of," she goes on. "Like, he gave me his jacket and kissed me in the park. And then my friends told me about how they saw him swapping spit with that bitch Amanda at Jenny's Party."

I see Cyrus cringe a little when she swears, but he doesn't say anything, knowing that that would only make her retreat back into herself again.

"Boys are jerks," Cyrus says.

"They really are," Jayda agrees.

"But some of them aren't. And someday you'll meet one who isn't a jerk. You just have to keep trying."

"Why can't I just skip to the part where I meet a boy who isn't awful?" she whines.

"Because the trying is what makes love worth it in the end," Cyrus says. "It's part of what makes meeting the right person so rewarding, because you had to climb mountains to find each other."

"So I have to start mountain climbing?" Jayda complains. "That sounds awful."

"No," Cyrus corrects and takes in another breath of preparation. "I mean you just can't give up. You're a very amazing girl, and one day someone will see that."

Seeing Jayda's smile find its way home makes my anxiety loosen as she look at Cyrus, saying, "Thanks, Dad."

I let out an exhale of relief as the shadows that were lingering in the corners of the room disintegrate. She's not related by blood, but I still see a bit of Cyrus in Jayda's smile, how it dazzles her surroundings with her radiance, and the way her dark brown eyes glow like his. She's ours. It's a certainty I feel in my core. She's made of me, and she's made of my husband, the same man who helped me when I felt like the world was working against me back in eighth grade, the man who continues to convince me that magic really does exist, because I see it in his eyes every time I look at him. And I see it in my daughter's and my son's too. _Wow._ _I really won the lottery on life, didn't I?_

"By the way, we're out of Corn Pops," Jayda says.


	3. S1 E1.3: Pilot

**Andi's POV**

This traffic is working my last nerve, but we're almost through. _Please let us be almost through._ When I see red and blue lights, I think my prayer must've been answered, and I light up, causing Amber to do the same.

"I can see the accident!" I cheer.

"Thank God," Amber responds.

"Uh, guys," comes Hazel's voice. "What about over there?"

I glance back to see her pointing at another set of red and blue lights farther up around the bend, which at this pace, means at least another fifteen minutes. I nearly smack the horn on the steering wheel as I drop my head down, groaning in agony.

"Can I walk?" Hazel suddenly asks.

"No," I reject.

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

Buffy's stress is clear as day on her face, and Cara is sitting on the floor, holding her own feet. I've been attempting to talk her into putting on shoes for too long, and our other kids are beginning to get restless.

"If we're not gonna go, can I go to Dylan's?" Andreas asks.

"We are going," Buffy snaps. "Cara, just put on your shoes."

I love Buffy, but her patience level is that of a toothpick. Feeling her worry clogging the air like smoke, I stand up and take her hand, leading her out into the hallway.

"It's fine," I tell her. "It's just shoes."

"I know it's just shoes, but why it makes no sense," she huffs. "Why is this even a problem we're having?"

"We had kids," I remind her. "So in return for all the happiness they give us, they also don't make sense sometimes."

She nods. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just need to relax. If she doesn't wear shoes, the stronger one of us can carry her."

"Oh, so me," I say with a grin.

"Bold assumption," she replies.

She tugs on my hands, bringing me in, and I kiss her. In that simple second, all the emotions of that very first kiss at Andi's party come back in a flash, and when I back away, I'm smiling like I did when I went home that night in grade eight.

"Now let's go be parents," I say.

The two of us make our way back into the mud room, ready to take on the situation, but as soon as we step in, we're stunned by a surreal sight. Cara is standing with her rubber rain boots on, holding her oldest brother's hand.

"What did you do?" Buffy asks, eyes wide in awe.

"I made her a deal," Andreas explains. "She wears shoes as long as she's allowed to wear something else too."

I furrow my brows. "What is something else?"

_____________________________________

**TJ's POV**

"Get this thing away from me or I'm throwing it out the window!" Jayda yells.

Her brother backs the RC up, a look of fear in his eyes. He tried to jump the wrong foot, and he knows it.

"Wyatt," Cyrus says, "why don't you go put that in your room so that it doesn't get stepped on when your family gets here."

The boy obliges, trailing along behind the machine as it zips toward the stairs. A second later, the doorbell rings, and I go over to answer it. The first guests are Buffy and Marty with their kids. They all say hello as they enter in. Brayden immediately goes to claim his regular spot on the corner chair of the living room, while Andreas finds Jayda in the kitchen. The smallest member of their family stands out the most, for she struts in dressed as Jack Sparrow, wig and all.

I look down at her then back up at Marty who explains, "This is the only way she agreed to wear shoes."

"Ah." I bend down to the little girl. "Well, ahoy there, Jack Sparrow."

Cara raises her chin, replying, "That's Captain Jack Sparrow to you."

She moseys on past me, and I let out a laugh, which Marty joins. Right when Buffy and Marty get comfortable in my home, the door opens again, but I'm not the one who opens it, and there's no doorbell. Amber lets herself in. _Typical._

"Hi, Uncle TJ," Hazel greets as she passes on in.

Amber takes a cake in a container from Andi's hands and puts it in mine with a smile.

"Look what I made," she says.

I nod. "Looks delicious. Did you say hi to Shauna for me?"

My sister rolls her eyes as I chuckle. I don't know why she thinks she can fool me. She's never been able to bake. I remember doing her home ec. homework for her when she was in middle school, because she thought salt and sugar were interchangeable since they were both white and sprinkly.

A while later, Cyrus answers the final knock on the door, and Jonah and Walker come in.

"Sorry we're late," Jonah says. "We had to take the bus."

"You took the bus?" I repeat.

"It's a long story," Walker responds.

As the last of our guests mingle in with the crowd, Cyrus comes over to me to encompass my waist in his arms, and I take him in by the shoulder. We both gaze around at the group here that we call our family. Jayda laughs with Andreas and Hazel, my daughter's tears completely dried now. Buffy and Andi chat together at the island, their conversations never running dry, even after being friends for as long as they have. And Wyatt runs over people's feet with the RC Cyrus literally just told him to put away.

"We've got one good family," I say.

"We do," Cyrus agrees. "Dysfunctional but good."


	4. S1 E2.1: Uses of Ink

**TJ's POV**

"Hey, Cyrus?" I say as I round the corner into the kitchen. "What happened to all the lightbulbs?"

I just attempted to turn on three different lamps—one in my bedroom, one in the office, and one in the hallway—and each time, I found out that the bulb had been unscrewed and left laying on a table.

Cyrus takes a sip of his morning coffee and answers, "Yeah, Wyatt's been watching a lot of spy shows lately, and he's convinced that someone's bugged our lights."

My eyes wander past the pillar and onto the lamp on the dining room cabinet. The bulb sits right beside its base.

"Okay," I breathe. "Uh, do you know if the bulbs will be put back?"

"I told him he has to get them back in by the end of today," Cyrus replies, "so who knows. I saw him start to return the bulb to the lamp in the living room, but then he got distracted by a piece of dust in the air that he said looked like Bob Marley."

My attention is turned as Jayda steps into the room. She's up and dressed, in a jean skirt and floral top, with her hair curled and the radiating scent of all the hairspray she had to use to keep that curl in. On her face, she wears a bright smile.

"Great news!" she announces. "To get over Jeremy, I'm going on a journey of self-care."

"That's great, honey," Cyrus responds. "Sometimes you need that, to just take a bath or meditate or—"

"Can I have money for a tattoo?"

Cyrus nearly chokes on his coffee. "A what?"

My reply is so automatic that it hardly takes a second. "No."

"Why not?" she argues. "You and Dad have tattoos."

Okay, so Cyrus and I may have gotten drunk one night when we were twenty-one and decided to get matching tattoos. Now whenever I take off my socks, I see the word "bench" written in Arial font. It isn't that bad; it's a cute reminder of him. But I'm just glad it's not in Times New Roman.

"Yeah, but we were adults," I reason.

"You guys, adults?" she scoffs. "Can't imagine it."

"Jayda," Cyrus joins in, "we're only worried that if you get one now, you might regret it when you're older."

"But Tay's mom let her get a tattoo," she argues, crossing her arms.

"Do I look like Tay's mom?" Cyrus counters.

She throws her head back as she groans, "Ugh! You guys are so lame!"

She stomps out of the kitchen, and when she's gone, Cyrus looks at me.

"She never fails to make mornings interesting," he says.

"You can say that again," I reply with a chuckle.

As he brings his mug up to his lips again, an idea strikes me.

"Hey, when was the last time we had a night out?"

"Like a date night? Uh, maybe last month."

"How about we do something tonight?" I suggest. "I'll take you somewhere, just the two of us."

He grins at that. "I like it. But what about the kids?"

"They're responsible enough to stay home alone." After saying that, I pause for a second, Cyrus and I both looking at each other while we think a little deeper. Then I add, "I'll ask Amber to check in on them."

"Good idea," Cyrus agrees.

_________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

As I exit my art studio, I come into the hallway where a small black mark on the wall greets me. It's about the size of a fingernail and sits just higher than my head. My house is filled with art, but those are all sculptures I've built over the years, and those sit on tables and in the corners of rooms. A black ink stain on the wall is not the regular art here, and it's certainly not something I intended to have. At first, I try to ignore it, but the next time I pass by, it has become too obvious and annoying.

"Hey, Amber!" I call down the hall. "Where do we keep the wall cleaner?"

My wife appears from the living room, walking over as she says, "Why—? Oh." She sees the spot on the wall, falling under the same confusion as me. "Where did that come from?"

"I don't know."

"What are you guys looking at?"

We turn to see our daughter passing through. She holds a stack of schoolbooks in her arms, probably on her way to her room to do homework.

"This spot on the wall," I reply. "Do you know how it got here?"

She looks completely clueless as she shakes her head. "Weird, no."

She continues down the hall, and Amber and I go off to search for the cleaning supplies.

______________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Buffy's the one who opens the door for me and Walker when we knock.

"Hi! Okay, so Andreas is at a friend's house tonight, so you'll only have to worry about Brayden, and Cara," she explains. "Dinner is in the fridge, so you can heat that up whenever, and just make sure to get Cara to bed by 8:30."

"Got it," I reply.

Buffy smiles and nods kindly at me then looks to Walker instead.

"Yeah, I'll make sure," Walker confirms.

"You don't think I'll make sure she gets to bed?" I question.

"Yeah, basically," Buffy replies bluntly.

Marty comes down from upstairs while finishing tying his tie. The two of them both have meetings for work tonight, Buffy with one of her clients, since she's a sports agent, and Marty with the other managers at Adrenaline City where he does marketing. Because Buffy thinks Walker and I don't have a life outside of our friends, she asked us to babysit, and because Walker and I don't have a life outside of our friends, we agreed.  
  
After Marty an Buffy have left, Walker and I go in to join the kids. Cara is in the middle of a Barbie court hearing, which Walker offers to take part in. 

"Perfect! You can be the witness," she squeaks. 

"Cool," Walker responds. "What did I witness?"

"Manslaughter."

"Oh... Fun."

Meanwhile, I take a seat next to Brayden at the kitchen table where he's busy painting the last touches of bronze on what looks like a long, toy version of a historical machine gun. 

"Hey, Brayden."

"Hi, Uncle Jonah."

"What'cha doing?"

"Just finishing remodelling my Nerf gun to look like a World War I Lewis M1914."

I nod, having only caught one of those numbers he spewed, and it was the M. Basically, he's turned his Nerf gun into a long barrel with a handle and a 97-round pan magazine on top.

"Cool," I say. "Have you used it yet?"

"No. I have a few other guns that I made too, but I haven't been able to play with anyone yet."

"You know," I say, "I never got to have a Nerf gun fight as a kid."


	5. S1 E2.2: Uses of Ink

**Andi's POV**

We cleaned it. We got rid of the mark. So why is it back?

I stop in the hallway, dumbfounded as I stare at the black spot.

"Amber," I say as she walks by, "did we not just clean this?"

She halts beside me, completely thrown off by the mark's reappearance. "How did it come back?"

"I have no idea."

"Maybe it's one of those things that goes away when you put water on it but come back when it dries?"

I narrow my eyes at her, baffled. "What kind of things are those?"

She just releases a sigh and says, "I'll get the cleaner again."

A few minutes later, I'm scrubbing at the spot with a cloth while she sprays it. It takes a fair amount of elbow grease, which is coming fully from me. Amber is definitely not the one of us who worries about cleaning around our home. She's more of a clean-it-once-its-in-the-way kind of person, hence why she doesn't dust the picture frames on the shelf until the dust starts to block the pictures.

She squirts the cleaning liquid on the spot again, and while I continue wiping, she begins to giggle. I stop to look back at her for an explanation, which she gives right away.

"Remember when we were in high school, and we spilt all that paint on the art room floor?" she asks.

I smile at the memory. I'd never gotten in that much trouble and not regretted it one bit before that day.

"Yeah," I say as I laugh, "and then we had to try to clean it up before anyone realized we were in that room unsupervised. But seriously, who leaves full cans of paint without lids just sitting on the counters?"

"The drama department apparently," Amber recalls. "Though we probably should've checked our surroundings before deciding that that was the best place to make out."

Grinning, I glance down each end of the hallway, seeing nothing that could be troublesome, before settling my eyes on Amber, and she knows exactly what I'm thinking. She drops the cleaning spray, and I let the cloth fall as she takes me in by the waist, and I wrap my arms over her shoulders. Her kiss is golden like her hair, golden like daylight, streaming through me in rays. 

After, we take another moment to just rest our foreheads together, letting the colours of the world blur back to normal.

"I love you, Andi Mack," she whispers.

I grin and lift my chin up to kiss her again.

All of a sudden, our daughter's voice breaks us up as the girl says, "Is this what you two actually do whenever you say you're cleaning?"

She lets out a laugh as she carries on down the hall, and Amber bends down to pick up the cleaner again. She places the cloth in my hand with a smile.

"You're better at scrubbing," she tells me.

"Cyrus told me that that statement could be considered using compliments to manipulate," I tease.

"I'm not trying to manipulate you. It's the truth. You should do the scrubbing, because you're better at it. Just like I'm better at supervising."

"Okay," I respond. "Well, you're also better at cleaning the toilets—"

"I should've expected that."

______________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

Our hands swing together as we walk down the sidewalk, and our feet move in time with one another, having had many years of practice. This sidewalk has held us up through countless events, witnessing all the times he snuck out in the middle of the night to see me, all muffins we ate here from the bakery, all the spontaneous kisses he's given me. Soon, TJ stops us in front of a restaurant, and I raise my eyebrows at him with a smile.

"This is the fancy restaurant you're taking me to?" I say. "The Spoon? We come here all the time."

"Yeah, but not alone," he replies. "Won't it be nice to eat without Wyatt trying to play the Bat Man theme song on the water glasses?"

I let out a tiny laugh. "And Jayda getting annoyed and telling him we've lost our jobs and need to sell his kidney?"

"Exactly," TJ says with a grin.

He brings his lips down to mine in a kiss as sweet as icing, then he reaches for the door.

_______________________________________

**Amber's POV**

When I see it again, I take a second to wonder if I'm starting to hallucinate. That stupid, black spot is back.

"Andi!" I shout. "I think our house is haunted!"

"What?" She steps out of her studio and freezes as soon as she sees it. "Again?"

"That's it," I snap. "I'm getting the bleach."

_______________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

My grandpa served in the Vietnam War. But I'm positive that he saw nothing like the brutality of this. Every table has been turned on its side, from the kitchen table to the coffee tables, and pillows are being stacked like sandbags, all trying to serve as some form of protection. But there's no protection against that little beast in the princess dress. Small enough to scurry around unseen, she gives her and Walker's team a competitive advantage, leaving me and Brayden struggling to get through the battle zone.

"You alright, soldier?" I question as he dives down behind the couch with me.

His chest rises and falls heavily as he manages to nod. "Yeah. She almost got me, but I'm alright."

The air is thick, like trying to breathe in a dust cloud, but I have to keep going. This is a war. One shot kills you. We just can't get shot.

"They're on both sides of us," Brayden says. "We're trapped. If we move, we're dead."

It's hard to think with my pulse throbbing from adrenaline, but I know what I have to do. Buffy entrusted me to protect her son, so if it's me or him who lives, there's only one choice.

I leap up over the couch, and a shot immediately rings out, but I manage to duck down again before the foam can penetrate me. Now I can see her eyes. They cut through the crack in the pillow wall, mocking me. That's one thing I didn't know about Cara until today: she has disturbingly good aim. Ready to snipe her, I pop up from the barrier, but she's gone from the place I saw her before. _What? Where—?_

I feel her foot push me down from behind, and I roll over, now lying with her gun pointed dead at my face. I have no chance. This is the end. With a grin, she pulls her trigger, and the foam bullet slams into my forehead.

"I'm sorry, Brayden," I cry out. "I tried to get her."

"It's okay!" he shouts back. "I've been watching you try to aim, so I wasn't expecting much anyway."

______________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

The basket of baby taters sits in between me and TJ while we eat. After having finished our meals, all we have left are the baby taters. We've been picking at them while we chat, but eventually, I can't eat any more. Neither can TJ. He almost reaches for one but rethinks it before shifting the basket a little in my direction.

"You can have the rest," he says.

I shake my head. "I'm full."

Our eyes fall down onto the basket, and there's a moment of quiet while we breathe, pondering internally.

"Whenever the kids are here," I start, "they always finish them."

"Yeah," TJ recalls with a smile. "Even if that is just because Wyatt uses them to build towers."

I laugh. "Yeah. But he does make some pretty impressive towers."

"Yeah."

We're both quiet for another minute, the rest of the voices in the diner taking over the air.

Eventually, I break through the background noise again to say, "I miss the kids."

TJ smiles gently. "Yeah, me too."

I wait a moment before adding, "I love you."

"I love you, too."

He reaches across the table to pick up my hand in his, his thumb grazing over my knuckles.

"I'll get a box for these to bring them home for the kids," he says.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

As I enter the hallway again, I stop, but not because of the mark that's reappeared in the centre of the bleach-stained wall. I stop because of the girl dabbing ink from her pen onto it.

"It's you!"

Hazel's eyes grow in an instant as she sees me, and my eyes dig into her like thorns.

"Man," she mumbles to herself, "it had to be the angrier mom."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I question.

Obviously, she didn't realize I could hear that, because she stutters as she tries to answer, "Uh—well—you know—Andi's soft."

Suddenly, my wife comes up from behind me, asking, "What's going on?"

"I just caught Hazel putting ink on the wall," I explain, my voice sharp.

Hazel attempts to give us an innocent smile as she responds, "Well, Mommy always said she wanted me to get into art."

Andi just stares at her in shock. "Then colour a sketchbook, not the wall. Why? Just why?"

Hazel lets out a breath and answers, "It was for a project for my experimental psychology class."

"And what is this project about?" Andi interrogates.

"Insanity."

Although I'm glad she's doing her homework, the fact that she drove us to bleach the wall makes it hard for me to be proud of her. Actually, come to think of it, the bleaching the wall thing might help her on her report for this. Still, I'm annoyed.

"You've been using us as lab rats?" I say.

She rolls her eyes at that. "Come on. It's not that bad. At least I'm not home alone right now, live-streaming myself trying to stick-and-poke my own tattoo."

My eyes flash to Andi's in an instant, both of us remembering our earlier phone call with TJ. _Oh, shit._

"I'll call Cyrus," Andi states.

"I'll head over there," I say.


	6. S1 E2.3: Uses of Ink

**TJ's POV**

I'm at the counter, paying for our meals, when Cyrus's cell phone rings.

"Yeah?" he answers. "Oh, hey, Andi... What? ...Oh my gosh. ...Okay, we're leaving now."

I take my receipt from the cashier and spin around to see Cyrus looking panicked.

"What's wrong?" I question.

"Andi just told me that Jayda is attempting to give herself a tattoo."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

We bolt out of The Spoon, and I get ready to break every speed limit on our way home.

______________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

Amber stands up from the living room couch as TJ and I enter our house. I'm still a little disoriented from the drive. After going that fast, walking just feels incredibly slow.

"She's in her room," Amber informs us.

"And what about the tattoo?" I ask.

"I got to her before she could do it."

I breathe a sigh of relief. _Okay, good. At least there was no permanent damage._

"Also," Amber continues, "you might wanna check on Wyatt after. He seems to think you're selling his kidney on Kijiji."

"Will do," TJ says. "Thanks for waiting here. You don't have to stay anymore."

Amber nods and comes over to put her shoes on. TJ and I head for the stairs, making our way up to our daughter's room where the door is open only a sliver. When I push it wider, I see Jayda lying on her bed with her headphones in, staring at the ceiling. She flicks her eyes to us as we enter but returns her focus to the ceiling immediately after, her frown unmovable.

TJ pulls her desk chair over to take a seat on that while I lower onto her bed by her feet. We both wait a minute for her to say something or react in any way, and for a while, there's silence, but eventually, she talks.

"I don't understand why you won't let me have a tattoo," she complains. "You wouldn't give me the money, so I found a way to do it myself. Isn't that being responsible?"

"Well, first off, you don't know how to do stick-and-poke tattoos," TJ says. "If you gave yourself one, it could get infected."

"That's not true," Jayda retorts, springing upright. "Angel showed me how in math class, and it turned out great."

Suddenly, I understand why she's hardly passing math.

"Honey, why do you want to get a tattoo?" I ask.

"Because it'd look cool."

She stops there, but I know she's not done. I can sense it.

She releases a breath. "Because... I don't know... Because I just feel like... Everything is changing. Boys are jerks, but girls still like them. Sometimes it all just feels really...really fast...and stupid." She wipes a tear that drips down her cheek as she continues. "And then Tay got a tattoo, and everybody loved it. And now I need to keep up, because if I don't, I'm old news, and then it's no wonder why Jeremy got tired of me."

"Jeremy is an idiot," I tell her. "I'm gonna let you in on a secret. All boys at that age are."

"But didn't you meet Dad around my age?"

I steal a glance with my husband as he chimes in, "Yeah, but I was kinda dumb back then too."

"You were?" Jayda responds. "Why? What did you do?"

He takes in a deep breath and says, "Well, I was mean, especially to your Aunt Buffy. She wanted to play basketball, and I tried to make her feel like she was worse than me."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't know who I was. I felt like I wasn't good enough, but I was good at basketball, and her being good too made me feel like—like I couldn't control anything in my life...like it was no wonder people didn't like me."

Jayda looks down at her hands, not bothering to clear away her tears anymore.

"I just want to feel important," she says, "like something about me is worthwhile enough that a boy would like me."

"There's plenty about you that many boys will love," I tell her.

"Thanks," she says, "but you know, coming from my dad, that doesn't mean much."

"I know," I reply, "but I can still say it."

She smiles a little and looks down again. After another moment, her tears have stopped, and she brings her attention back up to me and TJ.

"So if I can't get a tattoo, can I get something else?"

I look over at TJ, who asks, "What do you want instead?"

"Well, Lilah just got a second ear piercing, and it looks _so_ good. I was thinking maybe just, like, a small stud?"

She waits with a hopeful eyes while TJ and I share another look, silently communicating our decision.

"Okay, fine," I agree. "But you don't need that in order to be liked."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

She grabs her phone and falls back on her bed, typing eagerly with a huge grin on her face. TJ just smiles at me, both of us amused by our daughter's excitement. If this piercing keeps her mind off a tattoo, then I guess it's a reasonable trade.

"Now, let's talk about Wyatt's kidney," TJ brings up.

That's when Wyatt's voice spins us toward the doorway as he shouts, "No! You can't take it!"

Then he goes running off to his room, bawling, leaving Jayda snickering on her bed.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

When Marty and I step into our home, Jonah and Walker are sitting on the couch together, watching TV. At first glance, everything looks normal, but then I notice that table is crooked, and the decorations on them have been shoved around. At the sight of us, Walker and Jonah shut off the electronic and come over to greet us.

"Hey," I say. "How was it?"

"Great," Jonah replies.

"Cara was in bed by 8:30?"

Jonah nods a little too fast. "Mmhmm."

"Alright, well, thanks for babysitting," I say.

My friends depart while Marty and walk into our house. Things have definitely been moved around. What on earth were they doing? Was there an earthquake that only hit my property? Then I find a little foam bullet in the kitchen sink and pick it up. When I turn around to show Marty, he's walking in carrying two of the Nerf guns that Brayden was working on.

"I found this in the sink," I say.

"And I found these under the bookshelf," Marty replies.

I look down at the guns, then at the bullet, and say, "I don't think Cara was in bed for 8:30."

"Definitely not," Marty agrees.

We both pause for a second, glancing between the toy guns and foam bullet.

"Best two out of three?" I challenge.

Marty grins and holds out a gun for me to take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's episode 2. I'm really loving writing this. I have so many ideas. I've got up to episode 7 planned, which I'm v excited for. I'm gonna try to write them as often as I can, but of course, I'm still gonna focus on my other stories and keeping up with those as a priority. I love you all. Thank you so much. I'm really excited for this.


	7. S1 E3.1: Glow Girl

**Walker's POV**

_Knock. Knock._

"I got it," Jonah says.

He gets up from where we are watching television on the couch and opens the door with his classic smile. The man on the other side wears a green polo shirt with a logo on it for a brand called Ultra-Suck, and he holds a clipboard as he looks up at my husband.

"Hi, sir," the man says. "Can I take a minute of your time to tell you about our new Ultra-Suck Ultimate Vacuum?"

This is when I'd say no and bid him farewell, but of course Jonah does the exact opposite. He stands for the entire speech, and when he's asked if he wants to buy the product, he says yes. Jonah has a problem with turning salespeople away. He always has. Any time someone comes up to the door or a telemarketer calls, it's a guarantee that we'll end up with some random item to throw in the basement. Currently, we're subscribed to more magazines than I can remember and they all end up in a donation bin as soon as they arrive.

Jonah helps the man carry the long box into the house. As soon as Jonah thanks him and closes the door, I look at him in judgement.

"Jonah, we don't need a vacuum," I remind him.

"I know," he says, looking sorry, "but that guy probably got turned down so many times today, and I just didn't want to be mean."

"You can't keep buying whatever people try to sell to you. All the stuff just sits in our basement."

"Well, maybe in twenty years they'll have gone up in value, and we can sell it online."

"Because that mop-broom two-in-one thing will go up in value," I respond sarcastically. "What about that time you agreed to try that free sample at Costco and ended up in the hospital because of your nut allergy?"

"I couldn't say no," he whines. "She looked so eager for me to try it."

"My point is," I say, "you've got to stop saying yes to useless stuff."

"None of it is useless," he argues.

"Then prove it," I challenge. "Start using all the stuff, from the Ultra-Sucky Vacuum to the piles of magazines and weird kitchen tools that nobody needs."

"Fine," Jonah responds. "I'll use them."

I was hoping he'd just agree to stop buying everything that's offered to him, but I suppose he'll come to that conclusion eventually this way too. It shouldn't be long before he realizes that all the junk he's purchased is a waste.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

I can hear the laughing from the kitchen. It seeps through Hazel's bedroom walls, making me think our house must be made of paper. She and her friend, Camille, fight with Andi's blender for loudest in the house, but they still manage to win. The chatter dies by the time Andi's pouring her smoothie into a cup, and soon the two girls come past with cheery smiles, still giggling a little as they head toward the front door. When Camille opens the door to go, she pauses for another second to face Hazel who's eyes stick to her like tape.

"Thanks for the nail polish," Hazel says.

"Thanks for the lip gloss," Camille responds.

"No problem. It looks better on you anyway."

Both girls smile for a moment before Camille turns around and leaves, saying, "I'll see you at school. Good luck on your test tomorrow."

"You too."

Hazel shuts the door and falls back on it, muttering to herself, "You too? She doesn't have a test, you idiot."

Andi and I glance to each other. I recognize these symptoms easily. Nervous. Smiling way too much. Messing up her words. She either has a crush, or she's very socially awkward.

While Hazel's on her way back to her room, I take the opportunity to question her.

"How was the playdate?"

"Momma, we're thirteen," she responds. "It's not called a playdate."

"Okay, how was your mature, teen hangout session or whatever?"

"Fine."

"Just fine?" I pry.

"Yes," she insists. "Just fine."

She hurries down the hallway to her room, closing the door right before blaring pop music over a speaker, which rattles the house with its bass.

I look over to Andi and ask, "Did I push it too much?"

"With a normal kid, no, but with Hazel, yes."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

I let out an exhale as Marty and I drop the light grey couch down in its new place in the living room. I was getting tired with how the position of the furniture made it difficult to get into the kitchen, so we've spent the last hour rearranging it together. Of course, when I proposed my plan Marty thought it was pointless, saying it was easy enough to get through the room. I said, maybe for spiderman, but not for regular people. Eventually, I convinced him, and now the couch sits out of the way of the path, with the chairs spaced out enough to leave walking room.

"Awesome," I say. "Now all we need to move is the bookshelf."

Marty reaches his hand up to scratch the back of his head while he says, "Are you sure? It really does look great there."

"It's behind a chair right now. Nobody can get to it."

"Is that really a problem? It's not like anyone in this house reads anyway."

"No, but our guests shouldn't be able to tell that from where our bookshelf is, so we're moving it."

"Uh, I really don't think we should—"

"Why are you so against this?" I question. "What about that bookshelf are you trying to hide from me?"

"I'm not hiding anything," he answers.

"No? Then help me move it."

Marty sighs and comes over to take the other side of the structure. When I push, he pulls, and we manage to shove it over to the corner of the room where it should be. But as soon as I step back, I realize why Marty didn't want me to move it. Right where the bookcase was is a rectangle of unpainted wall, a giant hole where the frosty blue just stops. I spin to Marty in shock.

"You never painted behind it?"

"No, because I was running out of paint and didn't want to buy another can," he explains. "I figured since nobody was gonna see it anyway, it wouldn't matter."

"What about when we have to sell the house?" I say. "You didn't think that maybe a hole in the paint would bring down the value?"

"We could sell it with the bookshelf included."

I cover my face with my hands as I let out an exasperated groan.

"So let me get this straight," I say, removing my hands. "You were too cheap to buy another can of paint."

"Not cheap. Financially cautious," he argues. "That dinner we had last night? Yeah, that was paid for by the money we saved on paint."

"Oh my gosh," I mumble and cross my arms. "So what do you suggest we do now about this bare spot?"

"We can paint it."

"Marty, we don't have this colour anymore. We'd have to change it and repaint all the walls."

"How about this," he says, raising his hands for emphasis. "We have two friends who are artists, so what if we get one of them to paint some cool mural on it instead?"

I don't want to agree, because I don't want him to think he's right. But I also don't want to have to repaint all the walls, so I suppress my pride for a second to respond.

"Okay. I'll give them a call."

I go over to the kitchen to grab my cell phone and find the number for Walker's house in my contacts. Then I bring it up to my ear and listen to it ring.

**Jonah's POV**

I shove the Ultra-Suck Vacuum across the floor as it rumbles louder than I think is legal. It turns out it's only meant for carpet, which we only have on the second floor, but this thing is so heavy that I would be amazed if the Hulk could carry it up that far on his own. I'm pretty sure there will be some permanent scrapes in the floor after this, but I am not going to back out.

Suddenly, the vacuum begins to make a chugging sound, and I realize my sock is being sucked into it. I try to turn off the machine, but it doesn't work, so the result is a tug o' war game against the vacuum cleaner.

**Buffy's POV**

It goes to voicemail, and I bring the phone down, feeling my irritation come back.

"No answer?" Marty asks, and I shake my head.

"I'll try Andi," I say.

**Andi's POV**

When I hear the phone ringing in the living room, Amber and I both sit up.

"Not it!" she shouts right as I start to stutter, but it's too late.

I push myself up from the kitchen table and go over to the phone to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Andi," comes Buffy's voice.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Okay, so pretty much when Marty painted our wall, he left a giant hole behind the bookshelf, because he was too cheap to buy more paint, so I was wondering if you'd be willing to come over and paint a mural there sometime?"

The funny thing is I'm not surprised Marty did that.

"Yeah, sure," I agree. "I have time tomorrow to come by."

"Thank you so much, Andi."

"You're welcome."

I hang up the phone and look over to Amber who waits for me to explain.

"I'm going over to Buffy's tomorrow to paint a mural on their wall."

"Oh, cool," she responds. "I can come help if you want."

"That'd be great."

"You're going over to Auntie Buffy's?" comes Hazel's voice as she enters from the hallway. "Can I come?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," I answer, thrown off by her eagerness.

"Cool."

She spins back around, returning to her room in a flash.


	8. S1 E3.2: Glow Girl

**Cyrus's POV**

I watch from the kitchen as TJ and Wyatt sit at the dining room table, schoolbooks spread out before them. Wyatt asked for help with his math homework, and TJ insisted that he provide that, saying that grade five math can't be that difficult, so I let him, figuring I could chime in if he starts to struggle. But TJ's been trying to help Wyatt understand question for the past ten minutes, and it's just too cute watching them work together like this, so I remain quiet and just observe.

"So division is like subtraction but upside down," Wyatt concludes.

TJ hesitates and responds, "Um...yes..."

The sound of the front door pulls my attention away, landing it on the entrance of my daughter holding the hand of some teenage boy in a hoodie and Adidas joggers. She's about to go straight for the stairs when I stop her.

"Uh, Jayda, who's your guest?"

She reroutes her path, pulling the boy with her into the kitchen for the whole family to see. A wide smile is on her face as she introduces him.

"This is Jeremy Hudson."

Immediately, a siren goes off in my head. This is the boy who broke her heart and caused me to have to buy three extra jugs of orange juice.

"Hi, Jayda's dads," Jeremy says with a wave. "I love your house. Also, I noticed that the buttons on your alarm system keypad are worn. You should really get those replaced. Makes it real easy for someone to guess the passcode. I would know."

He chuckles lightly, and TJ and I just stare at him, not sure how to respond.

Jayda doesn't even wait a second before explaining, "Anyway, we made up, and we're together now, so we're just gonna go hang out upstairs."

She pulls him toward the stairway in a rush, but I'm still trying to process what's going on.

Then TJ looks to me, asking, "How do we feel about this?"

"I don't know."

"I don't know either," Wyatt says, dropping his pencil and bringing his hands up to run through his hair in distress. "Why does Billy even need to split 42 watermelons?"

_______________________________________

**Walker's POV**

When I come out to the living room, I see Jonah lying in the couch, reading through a magazine with a focused face.

"What'chu reading?" I ask knowingly.

He flips the page, not looking up, as he answers, "Glow Girl Magaine."

It takes all my effort to hold in my laugh as I nod. "Hmm. Is it good?"

"Yes," Jonah attests. "I'm so glad I bought it. So far, I've already learnt how to stand up to bullies, and fun things to do with my BFF."

A bit of my laugh seeps out at that, but he ignores me, continuing his quest to prove that he's right, but he can't possibly win. There are too many random items. One of them has to be the breaking point.

Then I notice that one of his feet is bare.

"What happened to your sock?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

Buffy greets us with a smile, and my family steps in, leaving our shoes at the door, then she gestures for us to follow her.

"Thank you so much again," she says. "Here it is."

We stop in front of the big, blank rectangle. She wasn't kidding when she said it was a giant hole in the paint. There are a few brush strokes streaking into the space, but they hardly do anything at all to colour it. It's clear that Marty never intended for this to be uncovered.

"Hey, Buffy," Hazel asks, "where's Andreas?"

"He's downstairs," she answers.

My daughter nods and heads toward the stairs, and Amber and I stare at the wall.

"So you can paint it?" Buffy checks.

"Yeah, for sure," I respond. "I'm just gonna get my paints from the car."

"Awesome," Buffy replies. "Thank you. I said that already, but seriously, thank you."

She leaves to go upstairs, and I try to think of what could fit in the space.

"So you got an idea of what to paint?" Amber asks me.

I take another moment to mentally place the colours on the wall before answering, "Yes."

**Hazel's POV**

The gunshots of the video game crackle through the speakers as I step down into the basement. Down here is where the kids hang out a lot. Many of Cara's toys scatter the carpet. A television and a game system sit at one end. Posters of various movies are hung on the green walls. Right now, the only one down here is Andreas, and I'm thankful for that, because I want to be able to talk to him alone. Unfortunately, as I sit down on a chair, he's so focused on the random voices of the other online friends playing with him that he doesn't even notice me. He just continues shouting into the microphone on his headset as he bashes away at the buttons on his controller.

"No, dude, I told you to wait there!"

"Hey, Andreas," I cut in.

 _"Who's that?"_ comes a voice through the speaker.

"Nobody. Just my cousin," Andreas replies.

"Can I ask you something?" I speak again.

He nods but continues to play his game.

"Okay, um—"

I'm cut off by another player, saying, _"Dude, you shoot like a girl!"_

"Shut up, dude," Andreas says.

_"Bro, get behind me!"_

_"Sorry, man,"_ comes one more voice. _"I'm off my game today. My girlfriend texted me saying she thinks we're not working out."_

_"What the hell? She sounds crazy."_

_"All girls are, man."_

At that, I get fed up with all the other players on this stupid game and march up to Andreas, grabbing his headset and saying into the microphone, "Hey, dude, have your considered that maybe your girlfriend dumped you because you spend all your time saying sexist, dumbass shit on a stupid video game?"

_"Andreas, is that your cousin again?"_

Before anyone can say anything else, I go up to the TV and press the power button, making the screen flip to black.

Andreas looks at me in annoyance. "What the hell, Hazel!"

"I need help," I state.

"No kidding," he retaliates.

"It's about a girl."

That makes his anger die down as he leans back with a condescending look on his face, saying, "Well, you came to the master."

I roll my eyes as I sit down in my chair again. I want to talk to him about this, because as much as I don't understand it, girls like him, and he knows how to get them. I could talk to my moms, but they would make too big of a deal out of it, and I'd really rather just keep this to myself. I've always judged the whole concept of love harshly, saying how it's a pathetic use of my time and a weakness of the human race, so to admit that I actually kind of care about it now would be humiliating.

"Okay," I breathe, "so there's this girl."

"You mentioned that already."

"And we've been friends for a while," I continue, ignoring his comment, "because we're in the same class together, and I kind of think I'm starting to like her as more than friends, and now I don't know what to do. I would ask my other friends, but one of them is close with her—"

"Another friend?" he cuts in. "She cute?"

"Uh, I guess."

"What's she like? Does she post pics with flowers in her hair? I love those girls."

"Um, she wears a hijab, so no."

"Damn. Well, does she like guys who are funny?"

"She does," I say in a honeyed tone. "Too bad. Otherwise, you would've had a chance with her."

"That's no way to talk to someone you need help from."

"You haven't even helped me yet!"

"Okay, well, continue. You have a girl, and blah blah. What do you want to know?"

"I want to know what to do now," I state.

He shrugs. "Ask her out."

"Okay, but how do I do that?"

"Go up to her and say something nice like, 'On a scale from one to ten, you're a nine, and I'm the one you need.'"

"Andreas, that's awful."

"That's romance," he responds. "If you want her to like you, you gotta be smooth, cool. Act like you don't care but like you do care enough to make her interested."

I stare at him in confusion. "That works?"

"For me, yeah, but then again, I don't have to do much to get girls to like me," he answers with a grin.

"Okay, so why don't you have a girlfriend?" I challenge.

"I broke up with her last week. She was too clingy. Kept texting me all the time."

I'm now deeply questioning his qualifications as my love counsellor. I don't know why girls like him so much, but clearly it's not due to his impeccable teaching skills, since those don't exist.

"Let me ask you something," I say. "Has anyone ever said you were the master with girls, or is that a self-proclaimed title?"

"People have said it," he responds. "And it's not just that. I've been called the master of a lot of things. My style? Fly as hell. My Soundcloud raps? Straight fire."

"Didn't you try to write a rap for that girl in girl scouts a couple years ago, and it completely flopped?"

"The rap may have failed, but she loved me. I'm the reason she won her cookie-selling competition, because I told her she could go to Uncle Jonah's house, and he'd buy as much as she wanted, 'cause he can't say no."

"Well, that's great. You can marry a girl scout when you grow up. Might have legality issues with that age gap, though."

"Okay, are we done here?" he asks tiredly. "I want to get back to my game."

"Yes," I huff.

He reaches for the remote and flips the TV on again, and the other players' voices spring back into action.


	9. S1 E3.3: Glow Girl

**Marty's POV**

Buffy pulls my attention away from my computer as she steps into the office that we share. She folds her arms over her chest and leans against the doorframe, looking at me skeptically.

"So what else did you not finish because you wanted to save money?" she interrogates.

I push my chair back, spinning to face her. I could lie and say there was nothing else, but I know she would see right through that.

"Only a few things," I respond.

Her jaw drops open. "What other things?"

"Uh, well, the dresser in Andreas and Brayden's room only has about two thirds of the screws in it that it's supposed to."

"Is that why it's so wobbly?"

"Probably," I admit. "And you know that light in the basement that started flickering?"

"Yeah."

"I never actually replaced it. I just go down and hit it with a broom once a day, because that seems to keep it lit up."

Her scowl changes into complete disbelief as she looks at me. To try to save myself from anymore anger that she has left, I stand up and go over to take her hands.

"But you know what?" I say. "I do those things, because I want to save money so that I can spend it on you, my beautiful wife, and our beautiful family. I want us to be able to have everything we want."

She falls soft at that, saying, "Aww," and giving me a kiss. But when she backs away afterward, she touches my shoulder and says, "What I want is for you to finish painting the whole wall when you start it."

"Okay," I mumble.

_________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

This is the second day Jayda's brought her boyfriend over, and I haven't been able to clearly focus on helping Wyatt with his history homework, because I keep trying to listen through the ceiling to hear what's going on in her room, but it's all muffled, and now I'm really wishing we had walls like Amber's.

When I hear them coming down the stairs, I get up from the dining table and go over to Cyrus in the kitchen to see her kiss him goodbye and close the door long after he has left.

"Jayda," Cyrus calls. "Can we talk to you for a minute?"

The girl walks over to us, looking completely oblivious to what we want to say.

"We just wanted to ask you about Jeremy," Cyrus explains. "More specifically, why you're dating him."

"Because I like him," she answers and crosses her arms. "Am I not allowed to like a boy?"

"No, of course you can," Cyrus replies. "It's just that we're not sure he's the best boy for you."

"So you're saying you don't like my boyfriend?" she says defensively.

"Jayda," I speak up, "you didn't even like your boyfriend until yesterday."

"Um, actually we've been dating for three days," she spits.

"We just want to make sure you've fully thought this through before deciding on it," Cyrus tells her.

"Oh my God!" she freaks. "I'm getting a boyfriend, not getting pregnant!"

She storms off in a cloud of teenage fury, stomping up to her room. While Cyrus and I are left silent, Wyatt sets down his pencil and chimes in from the dining room.

"If she does get pregnant, can I bring the baby to my friend's house to have baby races?"

"She's not getting pregnant," I snap.

_______________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

At the call of Andi's voice, Marty and I return to the living room, and I'm instantly stunned by a gorgeous painting of an abstract floral design. The bright blues and reds tie it in with the rest of the room. As I get up to it, I realize it's not just flowers. It's a family portrait. The various tones come together to show the shapes of me and Marty with our three kids. I stand in amazement, gazing upon the artwork.

"Do you like it?" Andi asks.

"Andi, I love it!" I reply.

"Yeah," Marty agrees. "If you can do a few more of these, I won't have to buy frames for our photos anymore."

I shoot my husband a glare, but I'm still too awestruck to mad.

"I'm kidding," he says. "It's really good."

"Thank you," Andi responds with a grin. "I might have to do one of these for our house too."

"To cover that bleach spot," Amber says.

"Good idea," Andi agrees. "I really need to get to painting that."

______________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Jonah's doing the dishes as I enter into the kitchen, but this picture isn't normal. Rather than using a cloth, he scrubs at a pan with a weird rubber-spiked brush. I can see the effort on his face as he works at the dish, and the disappointment that grows as none of the stuck food comes off.

"How's that scrub brush working for ya?" I ask with a chuckle.

"Great," Jonah answers.

I continue to observe him for a while. The way the scrub brush doesn't work at all is honestly uncomfortable to watch. Eventually, I can't stand it anymore.

"Jonah, just stop. That scrub brush isn't doing anything."

"No. I'm proving to you that it's better to be nice and just buy what the salespeople are offering."

"But it's not. The next time someone wants to sell you something, just say no, and then we won't have a useless scrub brush that only causes you more work."

"I won't do it," Jonah opposes. "I won't throw away my morals."

"This has nothing to do with morals. You just have to say you don't want what they're selling you."

All of a sudden, the doorbell rings, and Jonah and I both match eyes, then I hurry to get the door before him. I can tell right away by the company shirt that this is another salesperson.

"Hi," he says. "Could I take a minute of your time to tell you about our new no-stick frying pan?"

I see Jonah staring at me anxiously from the side, but I don't let him sway me.

"Actually, we're good," I say. "Thank you, though."

The man nods but frowns. "Oh, okay. Well, could you let your friends know about it? You see, my wife is in the hospital, so we need the money for her treatment, and I'm paid on commission."

At that, Jonah's whole expression droops, and he looks at me with sad eyes, pushing for me to change my mind. I don't want to do it, but I'm not heartless.

"Actually," I cave, "we'll get one."

The man perks up in an instant. "Oh, thank you so much!"

I pay him and fill out the paperwork, and he says he'll have the item mailed to my house. Once he leaves, Jonah gives me a gracious smile. As much as I hate to admit it, I guess I can understand why he doesn't say no.

Then I look back out at the man who's on the sidewalk now, a woman approaching him.

"Hey, honey, how'd you do?" he asks loud enough for me to overhear.

"Told him you were dying and sold two."

The couple takes off before my mind realizes what's happened, and I just look over to Jonah who smiles awkwardly.

"Okay, maybe sometimes you're right," he says. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. I really appreciate everyone supporting me with this story by reading and leaving kudos and commenting. You mean everything to me, and I love you very much. Thank you!


	10. S1 E4.1: Dad in Town

**Andi's POV**

The repeated smacking sound draws me into the kitchen where I see Amber aggressively hacking away at a carrot with a knife. With each chop, I become more worried that she'll accidentally take off a finger. I come over to the other side of the island to lean my elbows on it as I watch the woman violently prepare lunch.

"Since when do we make carrots fresh and not from frozen?" I question.

Amber doesn't look up as she replies, "Since I need something hard to cut to release my nerves."

She slaps the knife down again, making me flinch from the noise.

"How's that working?" I ask.

"Not well," she mutters. Then sets the knife down on the cutting board and puts her hands on the counter, saying, "Andi, I'm stressed."

"Is this about your dad?"

"Of course, it's about my dad," she confirms. "He hasn't bothered to visit or even talk to TJ and me in eleven years, and now all of a sudden he's decided that he misses his kids and wants to be a good dad. Yeah, that ship sailed along with his cruise to India."

She reaches behind her for a glass of red liquid, which she brings up to her lips to take a sip.

"Is that wine?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"It's eleven AM."

Amber shrugs and raises the glass again, saying, "If you don't look at the clocks, it can be any time you want."

After another gulp, she sets the cup down to her right, the lines of worry still on her forehead.

"Look," I say, "I know you and TJ don't have a great relationship with your dad, but if he wants to try, then maybe you should let him."

"If it were only us in this house, I wouldn't be so worried about it."

"It's about Hazel? But I thought you said he was fine with it."

Amber shakes her head and confesses, "I never told him."

"You never told him?" I repeat, my eyebrows going up.

"No. Because I knew he wouldn't accept her, and I'm scared to hear what he's gonna say now."

"Well, he's met Hazel before, and he always liked her," I reason.

"Yes, but that was before the dresses and the makeup and the puberty blockers..." Amber's anxiety is clearly audible in her tense voice. "He still only knows her by her deadname."

"Well, if he's coming to stay here, then you have to tell him," I respond. "It's not fair for Hazel to have to hide from her grandfather."

"I know, I know," Amber says. "I hid from him for eighteen years, and it was horrible. He's still a little weird about having two gay kids, but nowhere near like he was at the start, so maybe this will go over okay."

"Okay, so when he gets here, we'll find a moment to talk to him alone to explain it," I suggest.

Amber nods, but a second later, she asks, "What if he isn't okay with it?"

"Then he can leave," I answer. "This is out house. He's a guest in it, so he'll either be respectful or be gone."

Our conversation comes to a halt as Hazel enters in from the hallway, coming up to us with determined intention in her movement.

"Can I have eighty dollars?" she asks. "And before you say no, just know that it is for a very important cause."

"What cause?" Amber questions.

"I need a new outfit."

"You have plenty of outfits," I respond.

"Yes, but none of them are good enough," she protests.

"Good enough for what?" I say.

"For everything," she states, now getting worked up.

"Everything," Amber repeats, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"You know," Hazel starts, crossing her arms, "effective parents would say yes, because that would support my independence and self-confidence."

"Which psychologist said that?" Amber pokes. "Sigmund Freud?"

Hazel looks grossed out at that. "Ew! No. Freud is the guy who thought all kids wanted to have sex with their parents."

"Ew," Amber reacts, while I just mutter, "What are we letting you read?"

Hazel moves on, asking, "So are you going to give me the money?"

"Here, if you want a new outfit," Amber responds, "I can take you shopping."

"Shopping with my mom? That would be contradictory to my goal."

"What is your goal?" I question.

She just shakes her head and starts for the hallway again, mumbling, "Forget it."

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

When I hear the front door open, I make my way toward it, passing through the living room where Jayda is glued to her phone and Wyatt is playing with some army men, both oblivious to the entrance of their father getting home from work. He greets me with a smile, and I go up, throwing my arms over his shoulders, but right as I'm about to kiss him, the aroma turns me off, and I step back.

"Oh, you smell like smoke."

"Papa!" Jayda says with a pleased gasp. "Are you smoking?"

My husband looks at her in disbelief, saying, "I'm a firefighter."

He returns his eyes to me, and I put a hand on his chest, saying, "You should go take a shower."

"I will," he agrees, "but first, while I have the whole family here, I want to talk to you guys."

He steps into the living room, but the kids still don't pay attention.

"Wyatt," TJ says, "could you please stop trying to melt your army men and listen for a second?"

"But they're in the middle of an interrogation," the boy argues.

"Wait, where did you get a lighter?" I question.

At that, TJ's eyes spring open wider, as though he didn't fully see what was happening either until now.

"I found it in the couch," Wyatt answers.

Jayda glances up to see it then says, "Oh, that's Jeremy's." She reaches over happily to take it from her brother. "He thought he lost it."

That doesn't help me feel any better.

"Okay," I say, my voice tense, "Wyatt, you're not allowed to play with lighters. And Jayda, you're not allowed to play with guys who play with lighters."

"Whatever," she mumbles.

"Why can't I play with it?" Wyatt shoots back to me.

"Because you could light something on fire."

"And my dad's a firefighter."

"Okay, I'm gonna bring this back to what I wanted to say," TJ declares. "As you know, your grandpa is coming to town—"

"Oh my God," Jayda interrupts, eyes widening in fear. "I don't have to share my room with him, right?"

"No," TJ says, becoming a little on edge. "He's staying at Amber's. But while he's in town, I need you guys to be on your best behaviour."

"That's fine," Jayda responds. "I'll be at Jeremy's most of the time anyway."

"Uh, no, you won't," I tell her. "Your grandpa's going to want to see you."

I also just don't want her at Jeremy's, but that's not a reason she'll listen to.

Jayda seems shocked by my request. "Then who am I supposed to talk to?"

"Talk to your family," TJ answers.

She lets out an exhausted huff. "Fine."

"Good," TJ responds. "Wyatt?"

He looks up from the spot on the floor that he's been staring at. "What?"

"Did you hear me?" TJ asks.

"No," he replies. "What makes the hardwood so shiny?"

TJ sighs, and I say to him, "I'll tell him again. You go shower."

"Okay," TJ responds. "Thanks."

He comes in to kiss me on the cheek, but I pull back, saying, "Uh-uh. I don't want to smell like a campfire too."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

"Dinner's ready!" I shout.

Marty finishes getting the vegetables out of the microwave while I take the beans off the stovetop and the potatoes out of the oven. Cara's the first to come in, and I fill a plate for her to carry to her spot at the table. But when Brayden and Andreas step in, two groans accompany them.

"What?" I say.

"This is the same thing we ate last night," Brayden complains.

"That's because your dad and I both worked all day, and this is quick."

"Yeah, and it's also burnt," Andreas replies, gesturing to the blackened potatoes.

"Not to mention it completely lacks any flavour," Brayden adds.

"You just did mention that," I respond. "Now either eat the food or go hungry."

"Yeah," Marty supports. "There are kids in Africa who would die to have a meal like this."

Brayden looks at him in confusion. "I think that would defeat the purpose of the meal."

"We would just like to have something good for a change," Andreas says. "Some of my friends' parents make them awesome dinners. Even something simple like quesadillas."

"Look, your dad and I work hard all day. The last thing we want to do is come home and work hard again to make dinner."

"But it's not that hard," Brayden argues.

"Then you two can make it."

Marty's attention turns to me. He can probably see exactly where I'm going.

"You guys can make dinner tomorrow," I go on, "and if you manage to make something better than what we make, then we'll start making some fancier meals."

Brayden narrows his eyes. "Deal."


	11. S1 E4.2: Dad in Town

**Amber's POV**

When the door opens and TJ's family steps in, I feel a huge portion of my worry lift off my chest.

"Oh, thank God," I breathe.

Now that TJ's here, there's another Kippen to keep my dad entertained. He hasn't arrived yet, but he's going to be here later in the evening, and Andi already cut off my wine intake for the day so my stress is thriving.

While Jayda and Wyatt join Hazel in the living room, TJ and Cyrus come over to me and Andi in the kitchen, TJ's eyes examining my current state.

"You look awful," he says.

"You look dumb," I snipe back.

"Yup," Andi mumbles. "Still siblings."

"I'm sorry," I say. "I've just been freaking out a lot about Dad coming."

TJ sighs and says, "I know Dad's been kinda inconsistent when it came to being there for us, and he left without notice, but even if he bothers you, you can put up with him for the few days he'll be here. Really, what are you so worried about?"

I look over at the living room where Hazel is busy talking with Jayda and make sure she isn't going to overhear me. She's probably already scared enough about this all too. I don't need to build on to her fears with my own.

Deciding it's safe, I whisper, "Hazel."

TJ doesn't get it. "Why—? Oh. Right."

"Yeah," I huff.

Before I can get myself worked up all over again, I try to turn my mind onto something else, saying, "Anyway, what's new with you two?"

"Um, well, we just got the alarm system keypad replaced," Cyrus explains.

Andi furrows her brows. "What was wrong with it?"

"Jayda's boyfriend has questionable hobbies," Cyrus answers.

**Jayda's POV**

Whoever invented the cell phone is a life-saver. Without it, I'd have to spend all afternoon with my family and no connection to the outside world. Even though I'm stuck here, at least I can scroll through my Instapic to keep from losing my sanity. The posts show everything that I need to be caught up with. Kelly got a new dress. Totally stunning. Angel got bangs. Cute! Brooke got bangs. Ugh. What a wannabe. Tatianna posted another selfie, with comments galore beneath, all saying the same general message: _gorgeous_ , _wow_ , _beautiful_. I like the photo and leave a comment of my own: 😍💕💕

"What are you looking at?" Hazel asks.

She sits on the other end of the couch, watching me as I continue to scroll.

"Instapic," I reply.

"Oh, cool."

One new like. It's on the bathroom selfie I took from over my shoulder to get my backside, a cute but hot pose, according to all the comments. The like is from Jeremy. I smile at the thought of him looking through my profile.

"Can I ask you a question?" Hazel speaks again. "You have good fashion sense."

"That's not a question," I reply, "and that's obvious."

"Would you give me fashion advice?"

My eyes spark at that, and I lock my phone.

"OMG, yes!" I answer. "For starters, yellow is not your colour."

She glances down at her yellow dress then back up to me.

"Yellow is my favorite colour," she says.

"Hmm. Well, I suggest getting a new favorite colour."

"I just want to fix my wardrobe to look more like you," she responds.

My little cousin finally wants to fix her style, and she came to me. I'm the obvious choice, of course, but I'm still flattered. To be honest, I didn't think this day would come. She's always been way more focused on how the "personality is what matters" that she hardly puts thought into her clothes. I'm pretty sure she still shops at kid stores, and with her going into high school next year, she needs to change that. This job calls for a complete wardrobe do-over.

"Daddy," I call toward the kitchen.

My darker-haired dad looks in my direction.

"Can I take Hazel to the mall?"

Auntie Amber gets excited and responds before Daddy can, saying, "Yes! Please do!"

"But they'll miss your dad getting here," Daddy says to her.

Auntie Amber just brushes him off with a wave.

A smile beams on Hazel's face as she leaps off of the couch, and I stand up with her, more composed.

Then she runs up to her moms, asking, "Can I have that eighty dollars now?"

Auntie Amber replies, "There's money in the cupboard."

"Yes!" my cousin cheers.

"Wait, how are you getting there?" Daddy asks me.

"We'll take the bus," I answer.

I head for the door and put my shoes on before Hazel comes to join me, and we both exit together.

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

I've always known I was smarter than my brother. That's been made clear by our report cards over the years. But with cooking, the breadth of my superiority is being challenged immensely. I've never cooked. I've never had to cook, and I don't plan on ever having to. I plan on becoming wealthy by creating a successful business, and wealthy people don't have to cook. They pay people to do that. Money and intelligence are the two most powerful things. If you have those, you can build nuclear weaponry that can destroy a nation. And the beauty of money is that if you don't have intelligence in a certain area, you pay someone who has it. So learning how to cook seems like a bitter waste of my time. But my mom thinks I can't do it, and I'm going to prove her wrong. Of course, that could be hard due to the fact that neither my brother nor I have ever cooked before.

Currently, we've got olive oil, peppers, and onions in a pan on the stove, the beginning of our quesadillas. I've taken it upon myself to be leader and read the recipe out to my brother who simply follows my directions.

"Okay, add the salt into that too," I say.

"Got it," Andreas replies.

While he does that, I look down at the recipe again. After double-checking the next steps, I turn back around and see the sugar container sitting on the counter.

"Did you just add sugar instead of salt?" I question.

"Auntie Amber says it works as a substitute," Andreas replies.

I suck in a breath and hold it, trying to keep myself from flipping out.

"Okay," I say, "so they'll be a little sweeter than normal. Can you just get the salt from the pantry and put that in?"

"I couldn't find it."

"Well, look again."

He sighs and goes to do that. Meanwhile, I ponder over the cup measure and the half-cup measure, deciding which will be easier to measure three quarters of a cup with.

"I do wish these were written using the metric system," I huff. "It's so much easier to work with."

"I don't think you could measure salt in feet, though," Andreas chimes in.

I look at him, absolutely stunned. But that is interrupted when the phone rings, and I go over to see who it is. It's my mom. I press talk and try to sound confident.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hi, Brayden. How's the cooking?"

"It's going fantastic. You're going to be blown away when you get home tonight."

"Glad to hear it. Well, I won't keep you. Say hi to Cara and Andreas for me."

"I will. Bye."

I hang up the phone and look over at Andreas who's now pouring salt into the pan straight out of the container.

"This isn't working," I say.

He puts down the container and turns to face me, saying, "I didn't think it was going that bad."

"It is," I state. "And I have an idea to help us."

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

The mall is crowded. It's overwhelming, because I don't usually come here. Shopping trips for me are usually restricted to either Christmas, summer, or back-to-school. For Jayda, this is just leisure time. Girls like her live here. They're obsessed with their appearance, a superficial thing that I've officially given in to by being here with her. Is it so wrong to want to be considered attractive for once?

She leads me up to the entrance of a store I've only ever passed by but never gone into before. The mannequins here are wearing outfits that only cover about fifty percent of the surface area my regular clothes cover.

"This is my favorite store," Jayda says.

"Why does it look like the clothing manufacturer for this place wanted to save money on fabric?"

She rolls her eyes and takes my hand to pull me in, saying, "Just trust me."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

"Okay," Uncle Walker says as he and Uncle Jonah come into the kitchen. "What are we cooking?"

After Andreas and I failed on our own, we called Uncle Walker and Uncle Jonah, knowing that Uncle Walker is a good cook. He always makes the best dishes at family dinners, so I figured he could help my brother and I make something better than an accidentally sweet puddle of vegetables in a pan.

"Quesadillas," I answer.

"We started with a recipe we found online," Andreas explains, "but it didn't go too hot."

"That's okay," Uncle Walker responds. "I know a good recipe I can show you. Brayden, you can get out the tortillas. Andreas, empty whatever mess you have in that pan right now so that we can start fresh."

"Where's Cara?" Uncle Jonah wonders, looking around.

"She's playing in the basement," Andreas replies.

"Well, why isn't she helping?" Uncle Jonah asks.

"Um, Uncle Jonah," I say, "she's six."

"Age is just a number," he responds. "She can grate cheese."

"Making a six year-old do manual labour," I state. "This will be a nice throwback to the industrial revolution."

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

The dress has thin straps and a flowing skirt that goes out at the waist. The top is tight and smocked, framing my body, and the pattern consists of tiny, red flowers on a peach backdrop. I'm nervous as I pull it on over my head. I almost don't want to look in the mirror, afraid that I might not like what I see. I've always struggled with that. Getting dressed is one of the hardest daily activities, because it reminds me that I don't look like other girls, but I want to so bad. I want other girls to see me as the same as them. I want them to think I'm pretty, especially one girl in particular.

I take in a shaky breath before unlocking my dressing room door and stepping out to look in the mirror. Immediately, my shaky breath is taken as I comprehend what I'm seeing. My long, brown hair falls over my shoulders following the flow of the dress. The hem of the skirt cuts off at my mid-thigh, showing my legs, which look slimmer than I usually see them. And mixed in with the million freckles on my face is a smile, because I don't look like a little kid. I look like a thirteen year-old girl, and I feel like myself, which is so strange, because this is Jayda's favorite store. But I guess she knows me better than I thought. Apparently, she knows a part of me that I didn't even know.

Jayda stands to my left, gawking at my dress.

"Damn, girl!" she says.

I do a twirl, letting the skirt flutter back down as I return facing forward, then look in the mirror again.

"Woah," I breathe.

"See," Jayda says with a grin. "I told you you could trust me."

"Yeah."

"Wait here," she tells me. "I'll bring you another outfit."


	12. S1 E4.3: Dad in Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mild transphobia.

**Hazel's POV**

Jayda and I eat our ice cream at a table in the food court. Her eyes keep wandering over to every cute boy that passes, but she doesn't do anything, because she already has a boyfriend. She hasn't looked at her phone this whole time, and honestly, it might be a record. Usually, she clings to that thing like it's her baby, but apparently helping me buy clothes is entertaining enough, and I can't help but feel a little good about that.

"You're going to look so hot in those outfits," Jayda says before consuming another spoonful of ice cream.

She eats ice cream the way the love interest in a romantic movie would, in dainty scoops at a time, and letting the spoon linger on her lips before bringing it back down.

"You think?" I respond.

"Definitely," she says. "All the boys are going to love you."

I look down at my bowl as I reply, "Well, it's not a boy who I want to think I look hot."

Jayda lights up at that. "Oooh! Is it a girl? A non-binary person?"

"It's a girl," I say.

"Oh my gosh! My little cousin has a crush!"

"I'm only younger than you by a year," I remind her.

"Whatever," she responds. "What's her name?"

"Camille. She's my friend."

"Oooh! Is she pretty?"

"Very," I answer. "Way prettier than me."

"What are you talking about?" Jayda questions. "Sure, you're a little nerdy sometimes, but you're definitely pretty."

"Not like you," I say. "You're beautiful and popular, and everyone likes you."

"That's true," she agrees with a smile, "but just because you're not popular, it doesn't mean you're not datable."

I shake my head. "I don't even know how to date, or how to ask her out for that matter. I tried talking to Andreas, but all he gave me was a bad pickup line."

"Yeah, that boy is way too confident," Jayda says with a laugh. "Let me just say there's a reason why he can't keep a girlfriend for more than two weeks."

I giggle and try another scoop of my ice cream.

"Don't worry so much about yourself," Jayda continues. "You'll be fine. And if this girl is already friends with you, then she must like something about you."

I smile at that. "Thanks, Jayda."

_________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

When the doorbell rings, I stand up in a flash from my chair in the living room where I've been sitting to talk with my family. That must be my dad. He's here. That means I need to talk to him. I really wish I could just fast forward now to get this over with.

Seeing my nervous look, TJ says, "I'll get it."

He opens the door, and my dad's familiar face steps in. He looks pretty much the same, with a golf shirt and shorts, except that his hairline is more receded now than it was eleven years ago, and his skin has more sunspots. Rather than going in for a hug, he gives his son a pat on the back as he smiles.

"Hey, there, bud," he says, "but I thought this was Amber's house."

I step forward, and his eyes look over to me.

"Hi, Dad," I say shyly.

"Hey, champ. I hope you don't mind. There wasn't space in the driveway, so I parked on the lawn."

_Um, actually, I do mind._

"No, of course not," I reply through clenched teeth. "How have you been?"

"Oh, pretty good," he responds. "I just got back from Australia. Let me tell you. They've got animals there with more venom than your mother."

He chuckles, but TJ and I just smile uncomfortably. He and my mom got divorced almost right after TJ and I both moved out. I assume that that was probably to spare us the difficulty of having divorced parents while living at home, but it does make me wonder how much of our happy family was a lie. My dad thinks that joking about it makes it easier, but it really doesn't.

"Anyway," my dad says, "tell me about you guys. How are the families?"

"You'd know if you bothered to call," I grumble.

"Hey, the long-distance charges are crazy across the world."

"Right," I mutter.

"Uh, my family's doing fine," TJ answers to the earlier question. "Jayda is a teenager now, and Wyatt's getting there."

"Ah, that's great," Dad says with a smile. "What about you, Amber? How's Tavon? The house full of women ain't driving him crazy, I hope."

That shuts everyone up in an instant, and my dad looks around at the room in puzzlement.

"What did I say?" he wonders.

"Um, about that," I say, "I need to tell you something."

Assessing the situation, Cyrus stands up and turns to his son, saying, "Wyatt, do you want to help me with something in the basement for a minute?"

The boy just replies, "No."

"Okay, come on," Cyrus says anyway.

He takes the boy toward the doorway that leads to the stairs, and TJ and Andi step back, figuring I'll need the space. And they're right. If not for myself, my fear needs the room, because it rings at my spine like a cloth and presses my breath to make it feel sharp and cold like trying to inhale ice. But I force myself to continue.

"Um, okay, so I don't know how to start this, so I'll just tell you," I say. "Tavon's name is Hazel now."

"What?" my dad reacts, scrunching his face in confusion. "You changed it? And to Hazel? That's a girl's name."

"Yeah," I breathe, feeling the cold start to freeze my lungs, making breathing even more of a challenge. "She's a girl."

"What are you talking about?" my dad argues. "I met him when he was a baby, and I think I would've noticed if he was a girl."

"Dad," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, "she's transgender."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

"You ready to see what they've made?" I ask Marty.

He nods, and I unlock the door to our home. As soon as we step inside, I smell the meal, and the two of us make our way into the kitchen where our three kids are standing with plates ready at the table. Brayden and Andreas have proud smiles on their faces, while Cara has a band-aid on her finger, making me wonder what she was doing while we were gone.

"Come on in and take a seat," Brayden instructs.

Marty and I do as told and take our chairs in front of the quesadillas they made. To my surprise, they actually look edible. And that worries me, because I was counting on this being a disaster. I love my kids, and I believe that they can do anything they set their minds to, but I didn't expect them to be able to do it in one afternoon without any prior practice.

"Try it," Andreas says.

Marty and I each pick up one of the quesadillas and take bites. And damn it, it's good.

"You like it?" Andreas asks.

I finishing swallowing then set down the snack.

"It's really good," Marty says.

"Yeah, it is," I agree reluctantly.

Marty looks over at me with a grin, still eating. "This is killing you, isn't it?"

"No," I say, even though it is kind of killing me. "I'm proud of you guys. You proved that cooking good food wasn't so hard after all."

"Did dad tell you to say that?" Brayden asks skeptically.

"No," I reply. "I really am proud. You guys worked really well together to make a good dinner, and I guess now that means I'll have to—"

Suddenly, a beep goes off, and I see Andreas's phone light up on the table. He reaches to grab it, but I manage to read the text before he does.

 **Uncle Walker:** Let me know how they like the dinner. I have plenty more recipes to show you if they do.

My sons' faces go red, realizing they've been caught.

"You got Walker to make them for you?" I say.

"We only asked for help," Brayden argues.

"His help just happened to be directing the whole thing," Andreas adds.

"We called in reinforcements," Brayden says. "We were just being resourceful, which I think should earn us extra points."

"Nice try," I say. "You cheated."

"Okay, you were right," Andreas admits. "Cooking is hard."

"Well, I think you learned something useful," Marty tells him. "Now you guys know how to cook, and that will come in handy."

"When will knowing how to cook ever be useful?" Andreas questions.

"Girls like a man who can cook," Marty responds.

That makes Andreas's disappointed face turn positive again.

"Which is also why," Marty goes on, "I'll see if Walker can give me those recipes, and maybe I can try making a few."

He looks at me, and I know what he's thinking, and he's right. The kids went to the effort of learning how to cook today. We should try to get better at it for them.

"Yeah, and I'll help," I say with a smile.

I lean into Marty, putting my arm around him as he wraps his over my shoulder. I may not like to cook, but with him, I can bear it.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

This is getting tedious now. My dad isn't budging, and my worry has already changed into anger and now just plain sadness. I really want him to be okay with this, but right now, he doesn't even believe it.

"So he likes dolls and makeup," he says "That doesn't mean he's a girl."

"But she is," I state. "I know you don't really agree with this kind of thing—"

"I don't," he huffs. "I think it's nuts."

"But I would appreciate it," I go on, "if you'd at least try to accept her."

Suddenly, the front door opens, and I see Jayda enter in. _Too soon._ I haven't finished this talk yet. But I can't exactly turn them away now. My dad is already looking.

And then Hazel enters after Jayda, and the ice in my chest melts away in an instant as I look at my girl. She's smiling so wide that it's like the stars have become her crown. They shower her in a radiance that lights her from the inside out. She's wearing a new dress, a sky blue one with a square neckline and ruffled sleeves. It's simple yet soft in it's style, but the dress is nothing compared to the beautiful girl in it.

When she sees her grandpa, her face goes blank, and she stares at him, frozen. She knew he was coming, but I think she had the same worry that I did. She's a flower, bold and strong to the eye, but fragile when touched, and my dad is a gardener who could yank her out like a weed if he wanted to. _Please, Dad. Please be kind._

When Jayda goes up to hug her grandpa, he takes her in with open arms.

"There's my granddaughter," he greets Jayda with a grin.

And then he looks over at Hazel, and he does something that makes me start to cry. He waves her in.

"Let's get my other granddaughter in here too," he says.

Hazel's look of fear turns into a smile, and she runs up, joining into the group hug. Andi comes over to hug me too, because she notices my eyes welling up. Although the image becomes blurry quickly from my tears, I can still see the outline of my dad, my daughter, and my niece, and I wish I could bottle this feeling of joy and keep it with me.

_Thank you, Dad._

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

When I walk into the kitchen, I see Cara sitting on top of the counter with a mixing bowl and a whisk. Beside her is a pan of dark blue cookies. If I were my wife, I would probably question why she's using the oven unattended, but hey, she's being independent. I'm pretty sure that's a good thing.

"Making cookies?" I ask.

She nods. "Mmhmm."

I reach for one of the treats and take a bite.

"Hey that's actually pretty good," I say. "What made them this colour?"

"Play-dough," she answers.

I pause my chewing for a second, then I shrug and take another bite. Play-dough's non-toxic anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading, and I really hope you liked it. Next up is hopefully gonna be fun too. Love you all. Bye!


	13. S1 E5.1: Toddler Tamer

**TJ's POV**

The show plays on the television in the living room while Cyrus leans against my chest, my arm holding him close. His eyes gleam the image of the screen as I look at them, but they're glued to the motion picture. Eventually, he realizes I'm staring at him and turns his sight to me with a smile.

"Have I ever told you how attractive you are?" I say.

"Yes," he responds. "I believe you've said something like that before."

"Well, then this is a reminder."

He grins and raises his lips as I lower my chin, but right when we're about to kiss, our daughter's groan of annoyance makes us split, and we both spin around on the couch to see Jayda with her arms crossed. She tends to do this exact thing where she doesn't explain her anger to us, instead just making it clear that she's upset, while waiting for us to ask about it.

"What's wrong?" Cyrus says, taking the bait.

"I'm trying to work with Andreas on our group project, and he's doing nothing!" she complains.

"Oh, no. That's your job," I reply jokingly.

But Jayda completely agrees. "I know!"

"Honey, he can probably hear you," Cyrus says.

There's only a wall that divides the living room from the dining room where Andreas is sitting, and neither rooms have doors to block the sound. Considering she's shouting, I think you could be anywhere on the main floor and be able to hear her, except maybe in the washroom.

"I doubt it," Jayda counters. "He has his headphones in, and he's watching videos on his phone. I'm supposed to be the one who sits around on my phone! Now I'm being forced to take control, and I can't do that!"

"Well, why didn't you choose a different partner?" Cyrus asks.

"Because," she replies, "it was either him or the kid who thinks that, because I'm Asian, I should be able to recommend good Chinese food places."

"Didn't any of your friends want to do it with you?" I question.

"None of my friends are in that class, and all the nerds were taken, so now I'm stuck with Andreas, and the only idea for our presentation topic that he's come up with in an hour is the evolution of girls' swimsuit models."

Both Cyrus and I just look confused.

"What is your project supposed to be about?" Cyrus questions.

"Human rights," Jayda answers. "We have to pick an issue from the past and present on it."

"What do women's swimsuit models have to do with human rights?" Cyrus wonders.

"He says it's a human right to have them."

"Okay, well," I say," if you need a topic, there's a pretty good human rights issue that your dad and I know well."

She only looks lost at that, furrowing her brows as she says, "Like what? Unions?"

"Um...well, that's a good one too," I respond, "but not what I was gonna say."

"Then what?"

Cyrus and I share a glance, but Jayda just gets impatient and shakes her head.

"Whatever," she says. "I have to get back to my homework." She spins around to leave but looks back once more to whine, "Homework! What has my life come to?"

_________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

The hospital isn't too busy today. The nurses and doctors are calm as they wander between rooms, and the only families waiting in the sitting area of this floor are all chatting quietly, drinking their beverages and keeping their kids occupied. I like these days a lot better than when there's a stressful procedure happening, because then I have to watch the scared families try not to get too worked up, which isn't something I enjoy.

Cambry, the receptionist, gives me a smile as I go up, and she answers my question, knowing what I'm going to ask before I ask it.

"He's not out yet, but he should be soon."

"Thanks," I respond.

My husband is an art therapist here, and whenever I get off work at the same time as him, I swing by the hospital to pick him up. That's why many of the staff here know me. I've also come with him to several of the hospital's work parties before. There, I get to hear about all the hospital gossip from the nurses, which isn't much, since they're sworn to secrecy about most things, but every once in a while, there will be mention of a spicy nurse scandal.

When I turn around to go take a seat on one of the cushioned chairs around the coffee table, a swarm of toddlers catches my attention. There's about ten of them all being led by three women with hospital tags, going toward the elevators. They start packing into one of the elevators, and I watch the children all gab nonsensically. Right as the doors start to close, I notice a stuffed donkey on the floor that one of the kids must have dropped.

"Wait!" I call, leaping up from my chair to grab it off the floor, but by the time I get to the elevator, they're already gone.

I can't let a child lose their donkey, so I go over to the receptionist to ask her about the kids.

"Hey, Cambry, what was that group of kids?"

"Oh, that was the daycare," she explains, "for the kids of the staff."

"Do you know where they were headed? One of them dropped their toy."

"Yes. The daycare is on the first floor. Go down there and take your first right. It's at the end of that hallway. Bright and colourful; you can't miss it."

"Thanks," I say.

**Walker's POV**

I end up staying late by a little while, cleaning up the paint that my last patient splattered everywhere. When I finally get out, I make my way to the sitting area where Jonah usually waits for me, but I'm surprised to see that he's not here. I suppose I could've sent him a text to say that I was gonna be a bit late, but I didn't think he would leave without me. Confused, I go up to the desk in the centre of the floor.

"Hey, Cambry," I say, "did you see Jonah at all?"

"Oh, yes," she replies with a smile. "He actually went down to the daycare about twenty minutes ago."

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

Why would he be at the daycare? Pondering that the whole way, I go down to get him. I know I'm getting close when the sound of children playing grows, and soon I turn through the door into the room with the baby blue walls and vibrant play structures and toys. It's a large centre with a space for babies to nap behind the sound-proof glass of a separate room, a space around the corner for the babies to be held and cuddled, and a play area with tens of toddlers all supervised by the daycare workers. In the middle of that area, I spot my husband sitting with a toddler playing with foam blocks. A wide smile lights on his face as I go up to him.

Before standing up, he looks at the kid beside him and says, "Take a five, Timmy."

Once up at my height, he puts his hands casually in his pockets and smiles like nothing out of the ordinary is going on.

"Uh, what's up?" I question.

"Oh, I found a stuffed animal that belonged to one of the kids here, so I brought it back, and then I stayed to help watch them until you got out."

Suddenly, a thud grabs my focus, and I look to see a Frisbee denting the wall before falling to the ground. Quickly, a little girl picks it up again and tosses it to her friend—vertically. Neither kid is able to throw or catch it properly. I return my eyes to Jonah in question.

"Did you give them a Frisbee?" I ask.

"It's never too young to start."

Joining our conversation comes one of the daycare workers with a large, gum-showing smile.

"Jonah, is this your husband?" she wonders.

Jonah nods, and the woman reaches out to shake my hand, giving it a pat as she does.

"Your husband is such a natural with the kids," she tells me. "He got them to stop crying by singing this lovely song about how _he_ cried. It was the sweetest thing."

"I like to relate to the kids," Jonah says. "Helps build that mutual trust. They're calling me the toddler tamer."

"Yes, he's great," the woman agrees then turns to Jonah. "Feel free to stop by anytime."

"Thanks, Shelly," Jonah replies.

The woman is stolen away by a little boy pulling at her pant leg, and at that, Jonah begins heading for the exit, but I take another second to process everything I just learnt, following only when he looks back to call to me.

"Walker?"

"Yup, sorry. I'm coming."


	14. S1 E5.2: Toddler Tamer

**Andi's POV**

Amber and I are sitting together at the kitchen table, Amber working on her laptop, and me sketching out a sculpture design, when our daughter comes up and slaps a giant book down in front of us. My wife and I startle our heads up, and our daughter plops down in a chair.

"I found this on the shelf, in the basement," she says. "And I wanted to ask about..."

She flips open the cover, and I see that it's a photo album, one I haven't opened in a long time. She swipes through the pages, stopping on a picture that sparks a vivid memory in my mind. It's one of the selfies that Amber and I took the first time she slept over at my house. In it, we're smiling wide, wearing wigs to look like each other.

"What were you doing here?" Hazel asks with a laugh.

Amber smiles as she recalls the moment, explaining, "I went to you mom's house for a sleepover, and we did each other's makeup and dressed up like each other."

Hazel furrows her brows at me, asking, "Why did you have a wig of your own hair?"

"I got it for a Harry Potter costume without fully thinking about it," I reply. "But I'm glad I had it, because that was a really fun night. I mean, it was until we snuck out, and she left me on the ferris wheel in the middle of the night."

"Wait, you snuck out to ride a ferris wheel?" Hazel echoes.

Realizing my mistake, I attempt to backtrack, but Hazel's expression shows that she's too into this story to let it go.

"No," I say then admit, "Well, yes, but it was a bad idea."

"I convinced her to do it," Amber confesses. "We shouldn't have trespassed at all."

I know she was trying to help, but Amber's statement has only made it worse, shown by how Hazel's jaw drops farther.

"You trespassed at an amusement park?"

"Yes," Is say, "but—"

"How were you not arrested?" Hazel interrupts.

"I was thirteen," I explain. "I was taken to the police station, but I wouldn't call it arrested."

"So neither of you have been arrested before?" she probes.

I pause before responding, "Well, I have, but—"

Hazel's gasp gets in the way of me finishing, and she says, "I always thought Momma was the bad influence, but you were just as bad!"

"No, Hazel. I—"

"This is too good," she says, laughing.

Before I can explain anything else, she gets up and heads for her room. Meanwhile, I'm here regretting this whole conversation.

_________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

I sit across from Andreas at the dining room table. Our laptops are open, and our books are out, but Andreas is sitting on his phone, not bothering to even try to do work. It's really annoying. This is a group project. That means he's supposed to be paying attention while I bring the snacks. I already brought the snacks, therefore I did my part, and now he has to do his.

"Andreas!" I snap. "Can you focus for a second?"

He doesn't even look up as he replies, "I'm talking to Jackson."

"I don't care about—"

"Apparently, him and Mira broke up."

I gasp. "No way!"

Mira Madlin, beautiful volleyball girl who only plays that sport to wear the boots shorts for the boys, the bitch who totally insulted my bracelet the other day by saying her grandmother had the same one, the girl who fell off Bradley's balcony into his pool at a party two months ago, broke up with football player Jackson Cajas.

"Yeah," Andreas confirms, chuckling. "Apparently, he dumped her, and then she shaved his cat and stormed out."

"No way!" I say louder this time.

"Yeah way," Andreas responds. "That means she's single."

"Yeah," I scoff, immediately grossed out by his one-track mind, "and a psychopath."

"Think she'd go for me?"

"Well, she's a psychopath, so probably."

He blows off my comment, continuing his texting with a grin.

"Isn't she one of your best friends?" he asks.

"Yeah. What's your point?" Then I realize, "Shit. I need to text her to make sure she's okay."

"Put in a good word for me," Andreas says with a nod, and I roll my eyes.

_________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

I get out of my studio at the hospital and step out to the sitting area, finding that my husband isn't here again today. Maybe he went to the washroom, so I take a seat and wait. After a few minutes, I get up to go over to the receptionist desk, and Cambry has an answer ready for me.

"He's down at the daycare again."

I give her my thanks then take the elevator to the main floor, following the same path as the last time he came to pick me up. When I enter the room, Jonah is sitting in a circle with a bunch of toddlers playing Stella Ella Ola. I step out of the way of the door to watch as the kids all sing together, and after a second, one of the women in the room comes up to me with a smile.

"Which one is yours?" she asks. "Mine is the one year-old at the back with the teddy bear."

"Mine is the man playing Stella Ella Ola," I say.

The women scans me skeptically then looks at Jonah then back at me.

"He's my husband," I explain.

"Oh," she responds, understanding now.

She continues past me to pick up her daughter, and I wait for Jonah to be slapped out of the game. When he is, the whole group of toddlers cheers and giggles. I step forward to meet Jonah halfway as he comes over still smiling.

"How are the kids today?" I ask.

"They're great," he replies. "I taught one how to roll over."

"You mean do a somersault?" I question.

"Yeah, that!"

All of a sudden, a cluster of high-pitched gasps comes from the ladies to our right, and I look over to see five women all gawking at the baby in one of the ladies' arms.

"Those were his first words!" one of the women cheers.

"Say it again!" another woman tells the baby.

"Docious magocious," comes the baby's tiny voice.

Summoned by the occurrence, Jonah hurries over to join the smiling ladies, while I just stand here, completely dumbfounded.


	15. S1 E5.3: Toddler Tamer

**Andi's POV**

The corn chowder is steaming, letting me know that it's almost time for supper. When I reach in the cupboard to get the bowls, I hear the sound of footsteps and stop what I'm doing to see Hazel passing through toward the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" I question.

"Just to hang out with friends," she responds.

"It's way too late," I say.

"Are you really one to talk?" she quips. "Don't worry. I promise I won't get arrested."

"Hazel," I say, "you don't know the full story."

She strolls back over to the island to lean on it with curiosity.

"Then please," she says with a grin, "enlighten me."

"I wasn't arrested for doing something bad," I explain. "I mean, I guess I was, but it wasn't really... Me and your aunt and uncles found out that there was this big clothing company that just threw away all the clothes that didn't sell, so we stole them from their garbage and gave them away for free."

Hazel's smile droops as she responds, "Okay, that's not the big misdemeanour I was hoping for."

"No," I say with a breath, "but it did end badly."

Hazel contemplates my story for a moment, her eyes focused on the island countertop.

"Look," I say, "I don't mind telling you stories about me when I was younger, but I need you to think of them as lessons rather than ammo to use against me. I don't ever want to have to pick you up from a police station."

"Fair enough," Hazel responds. Then she looks up at me again. "So if you don't mind telling me stuff, does that mean I can ask you about you and mom as teenagers?"

"As long as you promise not to use my answers as justification for the choices you make, then sure."

With that, Hazel's grin returns, and she leans in a little more.

"Did you and Mom ever sneak out any other times?"

I hesitate for a moment before responding, "Yes."

"Really? Where?"

I shrug. "Different places."

She nods then asks, "Was Mom your first kiss?"

"No."

"Was she your first time?"

"Okay, I don't see how this is relevant anymore," I state, flustered.

Hazel backs down, saying, "Fine. But I'll be back with more questions."

I chuckle awkwardly and respond, "Looking forward to it."

She steps back around the island to return to her room, and I carry on with my cooking, relieved to have our misunderstanding cleared up. However, I may have invited a whole new set of problems with this open-question policy, but I guess I'll handle that when I get there.

_________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

The project is due in... I don't know. I think sometime this week. I sit on the carpet at the coffee table in Andreas's basement while he lounges on the couch. I think we were working at the start, but then Angel started sending me photos of shoes she's considering buying, and in order to do my duty as her friend, I had to stop and give my full attention to her. The purple flats are ugly. The silver heels are cute, but they have too many straps. The red stilettos are the best by far, especially with the black dress she's going to pair them with.

"Aren't you two supposed to be working on a project?" comes Auntie Buffy's voice as she descends the stairs.

She holds a laundry basket in her arms as she steps around the couch to see both me and her son, but neither of us bother to give her much of an answer.

"Yeah, yeah," Andreas mumbles.

"Whatever," I say, my eyes too focused on the next pair of shoes that Angel just sent me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Auntie Buffy shake her head then carry on toward the laundry room. Once, she's gone, Andreas speaks up, bringing his phone down from his face.

"Hey, what of you think of Amanda?"

I practically vomit right here, but I don't actually, because ew.

"She's a skank with hair extensions," I answer.

"Mmm. Just my type," Andreas says with a grin, and I roll my eyes.

"You're disgusting,"

"Then why do you talk to me?" he questions, throwing me a smirk.

"Because I have to," I retort, annoyed just by the question. "We're doing a project together, which we should really get back to doing, by the way."

"Saying we should get 'back to' it would imply that we were working on it in the first place."

"Whatever."

"What is our project even on?" Andreas asks, sitting up to see me better.

"We need to pick that," I tell him. "It has to be about a human rights issue of the past."

"I don't even know any of those," Andreas responds.

Suddenly, Auntie Buffy chimes in as she reenters the room, saying, "Um, Jayda, if you need a human rights issue, what about the one relating to your two dads? The history of LGBTQ+ rights."

Andreas and me both click out eyes together in an instant, saying a simultaneous, "Ohhhhhhh!"

"That's perfect!" I cheer.

Auntie Buffy looks proud as she moves on, heading up the stairs.

"Awesome," Andreas says then falls onto his back again. "Seems like we've done enough for today."

I stand up and toss my backpack over my shoulder, saying, "Agreed."

_________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

When I get off work today, I don't need to ask where Jonah is. I already know. A few familiar faces greet me as I enter the daycare. I don't even have a kid here, but the workers are beginning to know me. I look around in the area of toddlers, but I don't find my husband there, so I have to walk farther into the daycare centre.

I turn around the corner into the place where many of the babies are playing on colourful mats with more adults to watch, and there, by the window, I see my husband. He rocks from side to side, bouncing slightly, while holding a baby in his arms. The baby points out the window, tilting their little head to look, and Jonah points with them, speaking words I can't hear, but the smile on his face is all I need to know. Rather than go up to him, I stop and just take in the sight.

We've never once talked about having kids. That was just never a thought that crossed either of our minds. Maybe that's because we always had enough kids around as nieces and nephews. For me, I just never felt that a child was something I needed. I've always been happy with what I have, just him and me in a house for two. And I'm not saying I need more now. I don't. I love what I have. But I think that if Jonah and I ever did decide that we wanted a baby, I think we could do it. Seeing him in the glitter of sunshine coming in through the glass, he almost looks celestial, like a drop of heaven fell down to create him. And I have no doubt that, if given the chance, he would pass on some of that to his child.

When Jonah notices me watching him, he gives the baby over to a different man to carry, and then he comes up to me, his green eyes still shimmering, like foliage of the earth intertwining with the stars.

"Ready to go?" I ask gently.

He looks back one last time at the little infants all just waiting to grow and blossom as time carries them on, and then he turns to me again, and he nods.

"Yeah," he says. "Let's go."

He takes a step beside me, and I let my hand curl through his as we saunter out of the daycare together and into the hospital hallways. When the laughter of the children fades, I fill the emptiness with a thought of my own.

"I love you," I say. "You know that, right?"

He turns his eyes toward mine and responds, "Yeah. I love you too."

Our hands stay linked as we carry on toward his car, leaving my thoughts of children behind for another day.

_________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

"And that's when Cher's song, "Believe," saved the day at the gay disco," Jayda concludes.

She clicks out of her power point that she had playing on her laptop and turns to TJ and I with a smile. From our places on the living room couch, we smile back, but my smile is mostly a cover for my concern. TJ's eyes give away his confusion too, as hard as he is trying to hide it. After all, she already gave the presentation to her class today. She's only showing us because we wanted to see it, so us judging her now would be meaningless.

"What did you think?" Jayda asks happily.

"Well, um..." I start. "The historical accuracy is disputable, but the heart was there." I pause for a second before adding, "You do know the Stonewall Riots weren't in China, right?"

"What other wall is there?" she responds as though I'm the one who's wrong.

"Well," TJ speaks up beside me, "the Lady Gaga lyrics were a nice touch. Very inspiring."

I look over at him, asking, "Did you tell her to add those?"

"Of course," he replies with a grin. "It's not LGBTQ+ history without Gaga."

That makes me smile, but when I look back to my daughter, I remember how worried I am for her.

"Um, what grade did you get on this project?" I ask.

"A D+," she answers with a smile.

My concern disintegrates instantaneously, replaced by excitement. D+? That's above her average! This is a miracle!

"Then ignore me," I say. "Well done!"

She squeals and picks up her laptop, running off to her room in joy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm looking forward to episode 7 still, because that will be and interesting one. I hope you all liked this one. I enjoyed it. I love you all, and I'll see you soon with the next update. Bye!


	16. S1 E6.1: Eye of the Ten Year-Old Boy

**Marty's POV**

This restaurant always has a lot of glasses clinking around in the background, joined by the sound of sizzling eggs from the kitchen. When The Spoon is busy, but the family wants to go for brunch, we always end up here, at the place a few blocks away, called Franny's Diner. Cyrus and Andi aren't great fans of this place, because they say that the way they pack all their chairs and tables together violates fire codes, but the rest of us just like the food, so they come anyway. Cyrus and TJ's family is at the far end of the long table that the servers have put together for us. Next is Amber and Andi with their daughter, then my household, and lastly Walker and Jonah sitting at the end, across from me and Buffy. The kids all chatter while trying to decide what they want to order, and I'm looking through the menu, considering what I could get that's new this time. But when I flip the menu over to the front side again, I end up looking at the drawing of a man with a wild, grey beard and moustache above the title of the diner. I assume this must be Franny.

"My grandpa used to have facial hair like this," I comment.

Jonah looks across the table to see and responds, "Yeah, I tried to grow one of those in high school, but my mom said I looked like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo, because I couldn't get it as full."

"Oh, yeah," Walker joins in. "I remember seeing you with that."

"Too bad we weren't dating when I had it," Jonah says with a smile, "because you would've loved it."

"I'm actually really glad we weren't dating when you had it," Walker counters with a laugh.

"I've never had a beard or moustache before," I say.

Overhearing that, my wife chimes in, "Well, don't start now."

Big mistake on her part, because Jonah and I look at each other, mirroring the same grin. Immediately, Buffy and Walker start shaking their heads.

"Nope," Buffy says. "No. Nuh-uh."

Too late. Jonah and I only smile bigger.

"Oh, no," Walker mutters.

**Cyrus's POV**

Wyatt squints as he reads the menu, his face practically touching it.

"Do you know what you're going to order?" I ask him.

"Yeah," he says, looking up at me. "Can I get the—" he glances down again to read it "—Bandana Waffles?"

I lean over the table to read what he's pointing at.

"The banana waffles?" I correct him.

"Yeah," he confirms.

"How much are they?"

"Eighty dollars. Wait." He squints harder. "Eight dollars."

Interrupting him comes Jayda as she spins in her chair to face me more, saying, "Daddy, can I go to a party this Friday?"

"Will there be parents at this party?" I ask.

"Well, no—"

"Then no."

"What?" she complains. "Why not?"

"Because the last party you went to you came home with your clothes reeking of a certain scent."

"I told you," she presses, "I got sprayed by a skunk."

"Then you wouldn't want to get sprayed by another one," I retort.

She rolls her eyes. "I wasn't even the one trying—" she pauses to fix where she's going "—the skunk."

"And I'd rather you not be around the people who do."

"Seriously?" she whines, then she whips her head to face TJ, saying, "Papa! Do you agree with this?"

TJ's eyes flick from our daughter to me, completely caught off guard. I dig my look into him, convincing him without words.

After another second, he replies, "Yes."

**Andi's POV**

While I search the menu, I can't help but keep glancing up at Hazel whose eyes are stuck to her phone, oblivious to her little cousin, Cara, who is trying to get her attention from the chair beside her.

"Hey, Hazel," I say, but she doesn't look up. "Hazel!" I try again. "Could you please put your phone away for brunch?"

At that, she shoots up out of her chair, fuming anger and making the whole table rattle. Amber and I grab our cups to keep them from spilling over, and the whole restaurant's attention is steered onto Hazel as she shouts.

"Forgive me for have bigger things to worry about than this stupid brunch!"

When she goes quiet again, her face is creased with embarrassment, and she turns red as she notices everyone looking at her.

Quietly, she mumbles, "I'm going to go to the washroom."

She rushes away as fast as she can walk, ducking into the hallway with the washrooms. Amber and I meet our eyes together, both clearly concerned for our daughter. But Jayda is the first to break the uncomfortable silence as she looks at her fathers.

"Can I go to the washroom too?" she asks. Then she adds, "On Friday night from 9:00 to midnight?"

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

When Andi, Hazel, and I step into our house, Hazel takes her shoes off right away and starts bolting for her room, but I call out to stop her.

"Hazel!"

When she spins around, she nearly hits one of Andi's sculptures with her hand, the one that looks like colourful tubes intertwined together and wrapped around the standing lamp at the corner of the kitchen and hallway.

"What?" she questions.

Although she was polite for the rest of brunch, the fact that she's upset is still evident in how she carries herself slightly slouched and looks down at the floor.

"Do you want to talk about what's on your mind?" I ask.

She just closes her arms over her chest, tucking her hands into her elbows, and shakes her head. 

"It might make you feel better," Andi reasons.

"I really would rather not," she responds. "All I need to feel better is Netflix and a lot of popcorn."

"That doesn't always work too well," I tell her. "Trust me. I've tried."

"Well, aren't you the one who always says to keep trying and never give up?"

With that, she turns around and continues walking toward her room, and Andi and I just look at each other, disappointed.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

The light is on in the washroom, so I step in to find Jonah brushing his teeth. As I go over to the counter and pull out my razor from the drawer, I realize something wrong with Jonah's routine. Jonah always brushes his teeth after he shaves. But he has a fine shadow of stuble on his face right now.

"You're going to shave, right?" I check.

He spits foamy saliva into the sink and takes a sip of water, swishing it around before draining that out too.

"Actually," he says, turning to me while dabbing his mouth with a cloth, "I'm gonna let it grow out."

I furrow my brows, disgruntled by that.

"You're kidding, right?" I ask.

"Nope. I'm growing a full beard and moustache."

"But why?" I question, my tone grey.

"Because I can. You just wait and see. It will look great."

"Yeah, okay," I reply sarcastically. "I bet this will just be like the time you tried to grow a ponytail and ended up cutting it off because it didn't feel right unless you owned an exotic pet too."

"You're the one who said we couldn't have a toucan," he argues, "And you're gonna love the beard. You'll see."

"I really don't want to see."

He puts his hand on my shoulder and looks into my droopy eyes, saying, "It will look great."

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

"Oh, no. Nope," Buffy says as soon as I enter the kitchen. "Go back up and shave."

She's in the middle of pouring cereal for herself, shaking her head as she does it. But she's distracted when Cara flings her own cereal up with her spoon, making it stick to the ceiling for a second before falling back down onto the table.

"Cara," buffy says, going over to the table with a cloth to wipe up the mess, "what happened?"

"I'm teaching them how to do trapeze," she explains.

"Sweetie, I don't think they're cut out for the circus," Buffy replies. "How about you keep them in their bowl."

"That's why they ran away to the circus in the first place!" my daughter says. "They were being held from protruding their dreams!"

"You mean pursuing?" I question.

She nods, and Buffy finishes cleaning up, leaving the splash of milk on the ceiling to just evaporate. Then she comes back over to me and carries on with getting out the milk for her own cereal.

"Okay, can you go shave now?" she says.

"You don't like my beard?" I ask with exaggerated hurt in my voice.

"Not at all," she confirms.

"It'll grow on you," I tell her.

"It will not grow on me," she insists, "and it shouldn't grow on you either."

I let out a chuckle, amused by how much this bothers her.

"You say that, but I'm gonna change your mind," I state.

"Yeah, right," she scoffs. "You're going to want that thing gone by Friday."

I narrow my eyes at her with a grin. "Is that a challenge?"

"Yes it is," she replies.


	17. S1 E6.2: Eye of the Ten Year-Old Boy

**TJ's POV**

Usually in the morning, Cyrus and I get our breakfast and sit down at the round table that's tucked into the back of the kitchen by the bay window, joining Wyatt in the meal. Jayda always takes much longer to get ready, resulting in her having to eat her toast in the car on the way to school. While Jayda's part holds true today, Cyrus and I don't sit at the table with Wyatt. Instead, we watch from behind the island as he stares out at something in the yard. He doesn't even have his breakfast yet.

"Wyatt," I say, "you should get your cereal."

"But I'm looking at the little dragon in the backyard," he responds.

Confused, I wind around the island to get a better look at what he's pointing at.

"Wyatt, that's a cat," I state.

"Then why does it have wings?"

"Those are leaves in its fur."

"Ohhhhhhh. That's boring."

I turn to come back toward the island, but Wyatt stays staring at the yard.

"Wyatt, cereal," I remind him, and he spins around.

"Right," he says.

While Wyatt goes into the pantry to search for what he wants, Cyrus comes over to me with a concerned expression.

"When was the last time we took him to the eye doctor?" he whispers.

"Have we ever taken him to an eye doctor?" I counter.

"Well, maybe we should."

I glance over at Wyatt who's in the midst of getting out a bowl for his alphabet cereal. His short, blonde curls bounce atop his head as he jumps to reach the shelf in the cupboard. He manages to get a bowl and drops it down with a clack on the counter.

"That's a good idea," I agree.

"These aren't letters!" Wyatt suddenly says as he looks down at the cereal in his bowl. "They're just blobs."

I return my attention to my husband, saying, "I'll book that appointment right now."

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

It's been a couple days, and now my beard is actually becoming visible, although it's far from being full. As Walker finishes washing the last dish that we used to make supper, I go over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind. He smiles and sets the last plate down on the drying rack then turns to face me.

"What do you want to do now?" I ask him.

"I know what you should do," he replies. "Shave that beard."

"Come on," I say. "It's not that bad. You must think I'm a little attractive."

" _You_ are attractive," he states, "but the carpet glued to your face is not."

I grin and step in, hoping to crack his strictness, but when I try to kiss him, he backs away.

"You know," he says, "I made a promise to myself when I was young to never kiss a guy with a beard."

"That's a weirdly specific promise to make."

"Yeah, well, I can't break it. Shave the beard, and then I'll kiss you."

He shrugs and starts walking away toward the stairs.

"You've got to be kidding," I say.

"Shave the beard!" he shouts back.

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

My daughter's room is bright blue with crayon drawings of various things, like animals, pirates, and fairies, taped up around the walls. Photos of her and her brothers sit on her bookcase too, accompanied by the hundreds of Lego blocks laying in piles. Her bed comforter has little zebras printed all over it, which she always pretends to pet before climbing under it to go to sleep. As she does that tonight, I sit down on the bed beside her.

"So which story do you want me to read tonight?" I ask.

The girl doesn't answer, too distracted by my beard as she reaches up to touch my face.

"Are you keeping your beard?" she questions instead.

"Yes, but which story do you want?"

"I don't like it. You look like Santa Clause."

"Then you better be nice to me, or Santa won't bring you gifts."

She rubs the stubble around with her fingers, fascinated by it.

"Okay, which story?" I ask again.

"No story," she responds, pulling her hand away to tuck it underneath the blankets. "I don't want a story from Santa."

I always read her a story. She's never not wanted one. I know that this is now less work for me, but it's a little disappointing, because I'm losing some of that precious time that I get to spend with her.

"Are you sure?" I say.

"When your beard gets long, can I braid it?"

"I'm not sure if I'll let it get that long," I reply with a chuckle.

"Then no story," Cara affirms.

She turns over in bed, facing away from me, which is my cue to leave, so I get up and turn the light off on my way out. I take my time as I close the door, hoping to hear the girl change her mind and call me back in, but she doesn't. She didn't want a story because of my beard. But she liked it yesterday. I bet I know what happened.

I step into my own room, seeing Buffy right as she finishes buttoning up her pyjama shirt.

"Did you talk to Cara about my beard?"

She puts on an innocent smile, responding, "I may have."

"So you're turning our kids against me now?"

"I'm only encouraging them to express their opinions," she replies.

That's when Andreas stops in the doorway to peak in and say, "Night, Mom. Night, Santa."

He carries on with a grin, and I look back to Buffy who just gives me a shrug and turns around to hide her pleased face.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

Right as we step into the eye doctor, Wyatt spots the photos of people's eyes and shelves of glasses around the office, and he turns around to look at me and Cyrus with skepticism.

"This isn't the pie doctor," he says in a mad voice. "You said we were going to the pie doctor!"

"No, we said eye doctor," Cyrus corrects.

"Maybe we should take him to an ear doctor too," I mutter.

"What even is a pie doctor?" Cyrus questions.

Wyatt shrugs. "I don't know. You were the one who said we were going there."

Cyrus lets out a sigh and says, "Okay, Wyatt, we just think you might need glasses."

"Why would I need glasses?" the boy argues.

"Wyatt," I speak up, "you thought the sun was a stoplight on the way here."

At that, the boy's eyebrows turn downward in anger.

This is you guys' fault!" he complains. "You gave me your bad-eye genes!"

"Wyatt, that's scientifically impossible," Cyrus replies. 

Cyrus and I do both wear contacts, but Wyatt was adopted, and he's aware of that. 

"I don't want to get glasses," Wyatt huffs.

A lady steps out from behind the front desk in a doctor's white coat and looks around the waiting room.

"Wyatt Kippen?" she calls.

Our son looks back at the doctor then returns his eyes to us in dread.

"If I die from the anesthesia," he says, "promise to do one thing. Leave a bowl of water and some Cheerios under my bed once a day. Don't keep your hands under for too long, and don't ask any questions."

Cyrus and I stare at him, half in confusion and half in horror.

"Wyatt," I say, "you're just getting your eyes looked at, not getting surgery. And we're coming with you."

"Oh," he responds, calming down. "Then forget what I said."


	18. S1 E6.3: Eye of the Ten Year-Old Boy

**Cyrus's POV**

I unlock the door to our home, and Wyatt immediately runs in and plops down on the couch where Jayda is currently working on her laptop. She recoils away from him, snapping her laptop shut when he tries to peak at it, and then she notices the glasses on his excited face.

"When did you get glasses?" she questions.

"Just now," he answers. "Dads took me to the eye doctor."

TJ closes the front door, and the two of us go join our kids in the living room, taking separate seats by the window.

"Well, congrats to you for embracing your dorkiness," Jayda tells Wyatt.

"I thought they were dorky too," he says, "but then I found out I could use them to bend light and burn holes in things."

"Speaking of," I say to TJ, "how are we gonna patch the seat in the car?"

"I'll look at getting seat covers," TJ responds.

"Okay, um," Jayda says with sass, "you're never allowed in my room again."

"You don't let me in your room anyway," Wyatt replies.

Jayda doesn't even respond to that, for she gets a notification on her phone that steals her attention. While Wyatt has moves on to examining the diamond pattern of the sofa up close, Jayda releases a heavy breath and pouts.

"What's wrong?" TJ questions.

"What's wrong is that all my friends are going to Britney's party tonight except me."

I had forgotten about that, and I really hoped she'd forgotten about it too, but I suppose that was unrealistic to expect. I know Amber used to go to parties often when she was Jayda's age, and she's fine, so I guess I shouldn't worry as much as I do. It's just that she's my little girl, and I don't want anything to happen to her, because there are a lot of kids who could influence her.

"Angel just told me that Dustin's voice just dropped, like, ten octaves, and now he sounds like Morgan Freeman," Jayda says. "And I have to miss out on hearing that. I'm gonna be one of the losers who have to wait 'till Monday."

Going to a party to hear a kid talk like Morgan Freeman. That seems pretty harmless. I look over at TJ who has the same thoughful look on his face. Then his eyebrows go up, and he tilts his head, all to ask for permission. I nod. 

"What if we let you go?" TJ offers.

Jayda sparks up in an instant, saying, "Really?"

"Sure," I say.

She gasps in delight and runs over to hug us, stretching her arms out to grab us both at the same time even though we're on different chairs. Still smiling, she backs away.

"I'm gonna go choose an outfit," she says before darting up the stairs.

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Am I ashamed? Yes. Do I care enough to let this beard keep growing? No. It's itchy, and I'm over it. Once Walker's gone from the living room, I pick up the phone and dial Marty's number. He picks up right away.

"Hey, Marty. How's the beard?"

"Good! Um...actually, can I be honest?"

"Please."

"I keep getting hair in my food, and it's getting annoying."

"I'm thinking the same thing," I agree. "I was gonna shave mine, but I know we're in this together, so I wanted to give you a heads up."

"I think I'll shave it too," Marty agrees.

I hear when my husband approaches behind me, and I turn around, seeing him smiling wider than a valley.

"Finally!" he cheers.

He walks up to me and kisses my lips, making me forget about the phone call I'm in the middle of, and I drop the phone on the counter so that I can pull him in closer. This is worth shaving the beard.

**Marty's POV**

When Jonah stops responding, I hang up the line. After less than a second, Buffy comes into our bedroom with a smile, having heard my entire phone call.

"Technically I didn't shave it before Friday," I argue, "because today is Friday."

"That's fine," she says. "I'm just happy you're gonna shave it."

Behind her, Cara skips up to the door with bright eyes, saying, "Daddy's getting rid of the beard?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Can I be the one to shave it?" she asks.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

All I want to do is grab a can of cream soda from the fridge and go back to my room, to go watch _The Princess Diaries_ for the third time tonight and pretend my whole life isn't imploding. But my moms feel the need to question me when I try to leave the kitchen, and I have to swivel around on my feet, trying not to let them see how broken I am.

"Hazel, are you alright?" Momma asks.

My moms sit at the kitchen table, Mommy working on her art as always, and Momma on her laptop, doing some of her own work for her job. She's a writer for an online news and entertainment website that my friends always end up sharing quizzes from. It focuses on basically everything that teenagers like, which is why it's so popular, and it's kinda weird whenever I find an article written by my mom. Another thing about her job is that it keeps her very knowledgeable about issues regarding teenagers like me, and that makes her a great person to talk to most of the time, but I'm really not in the mood today.

"I'm fine," I say, but it doesn't even sound like I mean it.

When my moms looks at me harder, I crumble down into my chair at the table.

"I didn't tell you this," I start as I let out a sigh, "but there was a girl I liked a while ago."

"Liked?" Mommy echoes. "You don't like her anymore."

"Well, I do," I admit, "but I can't. It was Camille."

"Your friend?" Momma says.

"Used to be," I mutter. "But then I took a chance and told her I liked her. Now she won't even talk to me."

"Oh, Hazel," Mommy says, placing her hand over mine. "I know how awful that feels. I'm really sorry. But I'm very proud of you, because telling someone how you feel takes courage."

"Yeah," Momma agrees. "But you could do that, so I know that you'll be able to get through this. You're too strong not to."

"Thanks," I mumble, "but all I really want if for her to talk to me again. I wish I could take it back and just be friends. But she won't even respond to my texts."

"It will get easier," Momma assures me. "It just takes time."

I nod. I want to believe her, but right now, I can't see how I'll ever let go of Camille. She's the first person I've ever liked this way. What if she's the only one? What if there's nobody else after her?

I'm so tangled in my thoughts that I don't even notice when the doorbell rings, and Momma gets up to answer it. I'm brought back when I hear a voice that I've had stuck in my mind speak at the door.

"Hi, Mrs. Kippen. Is Hazel here?"

Camille. _Don't talk to her. She's been ghosting you for the past week. She doesn't deserve your forgiveness. Mom said you were strong, so be strong. Be strong. Be strong._

I'm weak. I rush to the door as soon as I hear her, and Momma steps back, letting me talk to the girl at the door alone. But my hands feel sweaty, and my tummy is spiralling like a slinky. Her wide, blue eyes do all of that to me. Her blue eyes and her wavy, red hair like autumn leaves. And her freckles like stars in the sky. And the shimmer on her lips. She's wearing the lipgloss I gave her.

"Why are you here?" I ask, barely able to find my voice.

She looks anxious, like she's waiting for something, the same way she gets before class presentations or social events. But whenever it was one of those, she would always look to me for support. Now she's just looking at me, and I don't know what to expect.

"Can we talk outside?" she wonders.

I give my moms a glance before obliging with her request, stepping out onto the porch, into the orange, overcast sunset.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I got weird when you told me you liked me, and I stopped talking to you. I was an awful friend, but I think I know why now."

I just listen. What else am I supposed to do? I've never been in this situation before.

"I think it's because I was scared," she goes on "...because I don't want to be just friends."

_She's— No— She can't be saying—_

She leans in, and her lips press to mine, making my heart float up out of my chest and twirl around. This is my first kiss. Oh my God. This is my first kiss, and it's with Camille, and Camille is the one kissing me. And she tastes like strawberries—strawberry lipgloss—and she smells like vanilla.

She steps back, leaving me wide-eyed and staring at her. After a second, we both dissolve into laughter as the butterflies fly back into their nooks inside my ribs.

"Um..." I start, "I don't know what to say now. Whenever I see people kiss in movies, the scene always ends after that, so..."

"Yeah, I've never kissed anyone before, so I don't know either," she responds with a gentle smile. 

"Uh, do you want to do something tomorrow?" I ask.

She nods. "Definitely. I've got to go home now before my mom realizes I'm not still meditating with her, but I'll text you."

"Yeah, sure."

I watch as she waves and begins walking down the street, her long shadow following her on the sidewalk. When her figure has wandered beyond my sight, I open the door behind me and step back into my house. Right away, my moms look at me for an explanation of the event they missed.

"What happened?" Mommy asks.

Rather than answer, I just explode in a squealing fit and run over to fall back on the couch, and my moms smile, knowing the answer.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

I sit with TJ on the couch, watching some show that he likes that I don't understand the appeal of. I'm just not really a fan of shows with a lot of gore, so TJ lets me hide my eyes in his shoulder whenever those scenes come on. At one point during the show, the main character goes into his bedroom, and that reminds me of something that had slipped my mind.

"We never asked what Wyatt has under his bed," I bring up.

All of a sudden, a crash sounds from the floor above, which is quickly followed by footsteps. It's gone after a couple seconds, but TJ and I are still staring at the ceiling.

Eventually, TJ looks down at me, saying, "I think I'm okay with not knowing."

"Yeah, I think I agree."

A second event pulls our focus toward the front door as it bursts open, and Jayda comes running inside. She has tears pouring down her face, and she moves so fast that she doesn't even bother to take off her shoes. As she aims for the stairs, TJ and I stand up in an instant, now afraid of something other than the show.

"Jayda, what happened?" I question.

"Nothing!" she shouts. "Just leave me alone!"

She's gone before I can even think to speak again, and then I look to TJ, but he's just as clueless as me.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More drama in this episode than usual, but I figured that would keep it interesting. I'm very very excited for the next episode. I also kinda have a lot of season two planned out. By the way, season one will have 13 episodes as a tribute to the very first Andi Mack episode, "13." Thank you guys for reading, and I'll try to update again soon. Also, no hate to beards. They're lovely. I do enjoy them. The opinion was solely for the story.


	19. S1 E7.1: He Said

**Cyrus's POV**

I knock on the door with one hand while trying to keep the laundry basket of folded clothes balanced between my hip and my other arm. 

"Jayda," I say through the wood of her bedroom door, "can I come in?"

"No."

The girl's room has been sealed since last night, and she's only come out to use the washroom and grab food. She also let me get her dirty clothes this morning, but bringing them back is apparently the hardest part of the chore. 

"I have your clothes," I tell her. 

"I just want to be alone!" she replies. 

"Jayda, you need to let me in, or you're not going to have any clothes to wear to school on Monday."

"Then I'll go naked! Just leave me alone!"

TJ overhears that as he comes up the stairs and looks at me with eyes struck wide. 

"I thought we had a few more years before that phase started," he comments. 

"Okay, Jayda, I'm leaving your clothes on the floor in the hall," I say. "Grab them when you want."

I bend over and place the basket by her door, and when I stand back up, I see Wyatt coming out of his bedroom. 

"Jayda, I'll grab them for you if you give me ten dollars!" he shouts. 

The teenager yells in response, "Keep your grubby hands off my clothes!"

Wyatt hangs his head down in disappointment and goes back into his own room, but he leaves the door open. I really wish Jayda would do that sometimes. When I turn around, TJ waves for me to come with him, and the two of us go into our own room where white walls greet us, along with a forest green bedspread and dark wood chest of drawers. 

"How are you doing?" TJ asks.

With his fingers, he strokes my arm down to my hand which he takes delicately in his. It makes me feel a little more balanced since the day's been constant rocking on tumbling waters. 

"I'm really worried about her," I confess. 

"Me too," TJ replies, "but I've been trying to put it into perspective. Amber used to do this all the time when we were teenagers, and she's okay."

"Amber also snuck out, like, every week," I remind him. 

"Okay, but let's be real. Jayda probably does too."

"You're not helping."

"Okay, so something clearly happened," TJ states, "but she's not going to tell us unless she wants to."

"I suppose you're right."

"Until then, we'll get a doggy door installed to slide her dinner through to her."

I manage to laugh at that, which lightens some of my fear. 

"Maybe we shouldn't support this by renovating our house to cater to it," I tell him.

He copies my smile, responding, "Okay. We'll just leave the dinner outside the door."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

I show up to Brayden's room with a stack of home-printed newspapers in my hands. Brayden and Andreas share a room upstairs. It's easy to tell whose side is whose, because there's a line on the carpet where Andreas's mess of belongings stops, changing into the clean, orderly area that is Brayden's. Whenever I go in there, I like to pretend Andreas's side doesn't exist. it's much easier to look at the maps and renaissance artwork decorating Brayden's side than the posters of various movies, bands, and actresses taped up crooked on Andreas's. Currently, my youngest son is sitting at his computer, typing away.

"So," I say, "I figured out why printer's out of ink."

Brayden spins in his chair, looking unbothered by my discovery. 

"I'll pay you back in revenue," he responds.

"What revenue? What are you talking about, and why are you printing newspapers? Are these pirated?"

"Relax," he says. "It's my own newspaper. I'm selling them."

I glance down at the top of the pile in my hands and read one of the headlines that I haven't actually paid attention to until now. 

"'Scorpion attacks kindergartener with lightsaber'? I'm 99% sure that this didn't happen."

"That one percent difference between you and me is why I'm convinced I was adopted," Brayden mutters. 

"Okay, first of all, you weren't adopted," I reply, "and second, no one's going to buy these. It's all fake news stories."

"Yes, you know that, and I know that, but the cul-de-sac of seniors at the end of street doesn't know that," he says with a grin. "It's business."

"You're taking advantage of people."

"Yes, business."

He stands up and grabs the stack of papers from me before plopping back down in his chair.

"This is wrong," I tell him. 

"Would you rather I not pay you for the ink?" he asks. 

_Agh._

"Okay," I huff. "Just don't get caught."

My son smiles smugly and brings his hands back to his keyboard to continue typing.

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Andi stares up at the menu screen from beside me in the line. Walker and I were planning to get fast food for supper, but then Andi mentioned that she was going to come here too to pick up food for her family, so I offered to drive. The name of the restaurant decals the white walls many times, so much that you could never forget that it's name is Fry Guys. It's definitely a rip off a Five Guys, except that it's made an attempt to look like a '70s disco with a mirror ball overhead and colourful, tiled flooring. Although the decor is mediocre, the food is above average, which is what keeps me coming here. 

I already know what I want, so I just gaze around at the restaurant, and when my eyes pass by the front counter, I realize that I know one of the teenagers working behind there. 

"Hey, that's one of my students," I say.

Andi pulls her eyes down to see the boy. I teach him guitar at Red Rooster Records, the store I work at with Andi's dad, Bowie. After Bowie taught me everything he knew on the guitar, I started teaching other people part time there, and now it's my full-time job. I also teach bass too, an instrument I've picked up over the years. 

"You teach him guitar?" Andi asks. "That's cool."

"Yeah. Mondays at 7:00. His name is Marcus. He's great. Weird seeing him making my fries, though."

The person ahead of us steps over to the pick-up side of the counter, so I step up to order. Marcus isn't the one at the till, and he never looks over, so I don't worry about trying to get his attention. I just pay for my food and step aside to wait for it to be made. Once Andi's finished ordering, she comes over to join me. At first, we're just waiting, but then I notice her eyes hone in on Marcus and his coworker by the prep tables in the kitchen. 

"Are you hearing what they're talking about?" Andi says. 

"No, I don't listen to other people's conversations."

"Just listen," she directs, and I sigh and do as told. 

"...My mom was murdered," comes Marcus's voice, "and my dad went broke, so I have to go to this creepy guy to make some cash..."

"Did you know about that?" Andi questions, looking very disturbed. 

I shake my head. "He only talks about guitar with me."

"He sounds really troubled," Andi says. "You should try to talk to him. See if he needs help or someone to talk to."

"Andi, it's really none of my business."

"But you're his guitar teacher," she hisses. "You should care."

"I do care," I insist. "I just don't like to get involved where I'm not wanted."

My eyes are pulled back to Marcus when I notice him drop a fry on the floor then put it back into its cup. He places it in the bag quickly, and I read the number on the receipt, seeing that that's my order. 

"Ugh, I'm gonna have to ask him to remake my fries," I say, and that earns me a glare from Andi. 

"You will not!" she responds. "He has enough to deal with."

Yeah, I feel sympathy for Marcus, but I don't see how remaking my fries will contribute to his family issues. However, Andi's face keeps me from following through. When one of Marcus's coworkers begins carrying our bags over to us, I look at Andi and shrug.

"Alright," I say. "I'll take your fries instead."


	20. S1 E7.2: He Said

**Andi's POV**

As soon as I get home, I drop the bag of fast food on the coffee table and march over to Amber, who's on a ladder by the window, to tell her what happened. I still can't believe Jonah won't talk to his own student after hearing how much he's going through. Clearly, he needs the support.

"Amber, you won't believe it! So I was at the restaurant with Jonah, and one of his guitar students was working there, and we heard him talking about how him mom was killed and his family has no money, and I told Jonah he should try to talk to him to comfort him, and he won't do it!"

"That's great, Andi," Amber responds. "But could you maybe help _me_?"

I look up, seeing her balancing the curtain rod on her shoulder while attempting to pull the new peach-coloured curtains onto it. I reach up to lift the rod for her, and she lets out a breath of relief then continues tugging the curtains over the pole with much more ease now.

"Don't you think Jonah should do something?" I say.

"Maybe he just doesn't want to stick his nose where it doesn't belong," Amber replies.

That was not the response I was looking for. 

"You can't seriously agree with him," I say. "The boy and his family need support. If Jonah won't help them, then I will."

"No, Andi. That's a bad idea." Amber takes the curtain rod out of my hands and hooks it back over the window before stepping down off the ladder. "You should just stay out of it. You don't have a good history with getting involved. Remember the time with the neighbour's dog running away, and how we had to move?"

"Well, I didn't realize I found the wrong dog, and seriously, who files a restraining order over something like that?"

"No, I think it was pretty rational," Amber responds. "The point is please don't get involved in this."

"Fine," I huff. 

I'm totally getting involved. 

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

The neighbourhood is quiet on the way home, and a light dusting of yesterday's snow cover's the grass. There's one more stop sign before I can turn right toward my house, but when I slow down to a halt, I notice someone pull up beside me, and I end up turning all my attention to him. Brayden is in his puffy jacket and gloves while sitting on his bike with a collection of newspapers in his basket. He doesn't notice me until I roll down the window, completely confused about what's going on. 

"Hey, bud, uh, what are you doing?"

"Sorry, Dad," he replies. "I'm on a tight schedule. Can I talk to you after work?"

Without waiting for me to answer, he takes off peddling down the road, and my confusion remains thriving. 

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

I would really rather just skip school today, but I have a history test, which I'm probably going to fail anyway, because my head is so full of emotion at the moment. I bet everyone's heard already too. I spent my weekend trying to hide away by binging the Netflix shows that I never had any interest in watching until they were all that was left to watch, so I wasn't really checking my phone a lot. I got a few texts, but I mostly ignored them. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, and I'm still not, but if I have to see people, I'm glad it can at least be my girls—Angel, Tay, and Mira—who wait by my locker for me as I walk in. Everyone else seems to be staring at me, their eyes poking like needles with every glance. They must know what happened, but I can get over this. It was just a boy. I can find another one. Angel, Tay, and Mira all look mortified on my behalf as I approach them, and Angel doesn't waste a second before questioning me. 

"Jayda, what happened at Britney's party?" she interrogates. 

"You heard?" I mutter. It's obvious that they have, but I was hoping I'd be wrong.

"Uh...yeah," Tay replies, exaggerating both words. "So has, like, the whole grade."

"I should've known better than to give Jeremy a second chance," I say. "All he wanted was sex."

Angel gasps. "Oh my God, so it's true!"

Mira leans in. "You really slept with him?"

I'm stunned by that. That is definitely not what happened. 

"What? No," I deny. "I said I wouldn't sleep with him, and he broke up with me."

Tay furrows her brows. "Are you sure? Because that's not what he said."

"What did he say?" I press.

"He's saying you two totally did it," Angel answers. 

I feel my stomach plummet, and I think I might cry. Looking around doesn't help. I only see all the people staring at me in disgust. The people who aren't bent my way are all ones I don't care about anyway, so it might as well be the whole school looking down on me. Jeremy has a lot more influence than I do. He's basically the leader of his whole ring of friends. Him saying something about me is enough to ruin my reputation for life. I want to say I can't believe it, but I kinda can. 

"He's a lying creep," I snipe to my friends, but they don't seem to get it. 

Mira just shakes her head, saying, "Look, Jayda, you wouldn't be the first girl—"

"Oh my God! You believe him!"

"Well, you were the one who got him to go upstairs with you," Angel states. 

I'm speechless. Not even my own friends believe me. They trust Jeremy Hudson's word over mine. I would believe them if they were in my position...I think. I don't know. I didn't a month ago when it was Chantal who supposedly hooked up with Liam in the gym equipment room. But that's different, because she actually did that...I think. 

I notice a group of girls from the track team pass by, and their eyes scrape over my skin. I know them. We're friends. Well, I thought we were, but obviously that was fake, because I hear one of them mutter the word I knew was coming.

"Slut."

At that, I spin away from my friends and hurry away. I guess I won't be getting my books from my locker anymore, but it's not like I used them anyway. I could skip, but there's that test. I guess I have to stay. I'm just gonna have to try to keep my head down and ignore the whispers that are already following me down the hall. 

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

"So if we replace x with 1, we can see that we can remove the variable from the problem all together."

Mr. Parker drones on and on and on about some math problem that I wouldn't be able to understand even if I was listening. I keep glancing over at the girl in the desk beside me who keeps her head low to her paper while she doodles with a half-broken pencil that it looks like she found on the floor. When the class is told to work individually on a problem, I take the opportunity to finally try to talk to her, something I've been wanting to do all day. 

"Jayda," I whisper. 

She doesn't look up at me, so I try again. 

"Jayda."

"Will you shut up," she hisses. 

"I just have a question."

"Well, I don't want to answer."

I'm getting nowhere. Time for plan B. I take my own pen and slam it on the corner of my desk, cracking it in half, and then I hold it out for the ink to drip on Jayda's sleeve and my own cuffs. 

"Oh! Oh, no!" I shout dramatically. I recognize that I'm not exactly good at acting, but people tend to just go with it because of my effort. Jayda looks infuriated, but I ignore her, raising my ink-splattered hand and saying, "Mr. Parker, can Jayda and I go to the washroom to clean up?"

My teacher looks at me in shock and responds, "Uh, sure."

I get up and start walking into the hall. Once out, I have to wait for Jayda to get out here at her snail-like pace. She does not look happy as she comes out of the way of the door to where I'm standing. 

"Excuse my manners, but why the hell did you do that?" she asks, dripping with attitude. "You ruined my shirt!"

"I'll buy you a new one," I reply. 

She scoffs, "Oh, with all the money you make from being unemployed?" 

"I had to talk to you."

"About what?" 

"There's a rumour going around about you," I say. 

"You think I didn't know that?" she huffs. "Every girl that I thought was my friend now thinks I'm a slut. Meanwhile, Jeremy Hudson is getting a pat on the back."

Her eyes are starting to glisten with tears that she's desperately trying to hold back, but I have to ask. 

"Is it true?" 

"It might as well be," she mumbles, "because everyone believes him."

"So it's not?" I surmise. 

I'm not friends with Jeremy Hudson, but I do have friends who are. Our groups are closely intertwined on the social map of ninth graders at Grant High. I knew he was a jerk, but I didn't realize how low he could go to make himself look better. 

"No," Jayda answers. "I didn't sleep with him. He broke up with me because I wouldn't." 

She looks down, but her eyes catch on her shirt sleeve, and she lets out an annoyed exhale.

"Now I need to go try to wash this ink out thanks to you," she sneers. 

She whips around, almost hitting my face with her hair, and struts down the hall toward the washroom. 


	21. S1 E7.3: He Said

**Marty's POV**

When I go downstairs, I see Wyatt waiting by the door. Aside from how he got in here, which I'd rather not ask, because I probably left the door unlocked, and I don't want Buffy to hear that from upstairs, my main question is what he's doing here. 

"Hey, Wyatt. Um, are your dads here?"

"No," he replies. "I'm here for work."

"What—?"

All of a sudden, Brayden comes prancing down the stairs behind me, saying, "Ah, my employee's here. You're late!"

"Sorry," Wyatt says. "I saw a squirrel climbing a tree on the way here, and it was just looking for a challenge."

Brayden goes up to Wyatt and scans the dirt on the boy's jeans, replying, "I can see that."

"Okay, what do you mean he's your employee?" I step in.

Buffy explained the newspaper business to me, but she never mentioned anything about our son putting other kids to work for him. 

"He's selling papers for me," Brayden explains. "Don't worry. He's being paid on commission."

I look at Wyatt. "Wyatt, are you okay with this?"

"Yeah, it's great," the boy responds with a grin. "The old ladies always tell me how handsome I am, and sometimes I even get cookies."

"Anyway," Brayden cuts in, "we've got to get going. Can't keep the customers waiting. That's bad for business."

"Oh, by the way," Wyatt says to Brayden, "yesterday Marge told me that Bertha who lives on the corner died."

Brayden's eyes go dim. "Oh, man. That's fifty dollars gone."

"Fifty dollars?" I exclaim. 

"Well," Brayden says as he opens the front door for him and Wyatt to leave, "let's go make the rest of our money."

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

Jonah notices me when I walk into Red Rooster Records, and right away I buzz up to the first set of records I see and begin browsing through them. 

"Andi?" Jonah says as he approaches me. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, I'm looking at records," I answer. 

"You don't have a record player."

I was hoping he wouldn't know that. 

"Then I'm also looking at record players," I say with a smile. 

"At the same time as Marcus's lesson?"

"Oh, is it?" I respond, trying to laugh casually, but it comes out sounding awkward. "Crazy coincidence."

Jonah shakes his head. "You need to stay out of his business."

"I am," I lie. 

When the door opens again, Jonah's attention is turned as his 7:00 lesson walks in. He goes over to greet Marcus and Marcus's father. While Jonah begins the lesson, the dad wanders over to the selection of records near me, and I take that as a sign from the universe that I'm supposed to talk to him. I watch as he picks up a blank album case and examines it. 

"Oh my gosh!" I say excitedly. "The Beatles! I love them!"

"Really?" he responds, looking up at me. "You like the white album?"

I didn't realize that's what it was called, but I guess I'm going with it. 

"Of course!" I say. "I love all their stuff! Like the white album and the...purple album..."

He furrows his brows. "They didn't make a purple album."

I clear my throat. "Yeah, it's one of their lesser known EPs. Anyway," I quickly move on, "so your son plays guitar, huh? That's cool."

"Yeah, he got into it because of my wife," the man responds. "She loved it."

Here we go. This is where it gets heavy. 

"Loved?" I say trying to sound like I don't already know. "My condolences."

"Oh, no, she didn't die. She just doesn't play it anymore."

Now I'm confused. 

"What?" I say. "Didn't she— I mean you made it sound like— What about your son? Is he doing okay?"

"Yeah, he's great. He's learning real fast. Although he'd learn faster if he didn't spend so much time playing this video game he's always ranting about. Games these days have such odd stuff in them. He's playing one right now where he's a kid who had to join a gang because of family issues. I can't believe my wife lets him play that stuff. Do you have any kids?"

_Video game. It was a video game._

"Um, yeah, I have a daughter," I answer. "But she's not really into those kind of games."

The man continues talking, but I'm too embarrassed to pay attention, and when he looks at me with raised eyebrows like he just asked a question, I make up an excuse. 

"Um, actually, I have to go. It was great meeting you, though."

He looks confused, but I just wave and start for the door. On my way out, I see my dad walking by, and he stops me a he comes over. While my mom has continued to dye her hair to keep it from going grey, my dad has embraced the long-grey curls as part of his free-spirit musician look.

"Hey, Andi. I didn't know you were here."

"Yes," I respond, pushing the door open with my back. "I just finished not buying a record player."

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

At first glance, the cafeteria is the same as it always is, but underneath the looks, it feels different. It's stiffer and sharper, and everyone seems to be gossiping about something that makes their laughs sound like snickers. Lots of that could just be because I'm feeling angry, and that's affecting my perception of the room, but it still weighs on me like it's as real as ever. I sit with two of my friends at a table, only half-listening to them talk. 

"If I position the trampoline just right," Britain says, "I think I can make the jump from the roof."

"Dude, that's so dope!" Waleed responds.

Past their heads, I see Jeremy sitting with his friends at the table over, and I focus my hearing on them. 

"Yeah, Jayda practically begged me to do her," Jeremy tells his friends, "and you know I couldn't turn her down."

The guys laugh, and the sound builds my anger, making my fists close tighter. 

"Wasn't she a virgin?" says one of Jeremy's friends. 

Jeremy smirks. "Not anymore."

As they laugh, my eyes shift over to Jayda walking past with her tray. She tries to just look down and pretend they don't exist, but her steps stutter when one of the guys makes a comment aimed at her. 

"There's the little hoe."

Jayda freezes for a second, letting the laughter hit her like bullets, and they weaken her enough that when she tries to walk again, she trips, causing her tray to fall out of her hands and her food to spill. Now anyone who wasn't looking at her is. The girl's humiliated face scans all the eyes for less than a second before she takes off in a run. I see her wipe tears from her eyes as she shoves open the door to exit the cafeteria, and that's when my last calm nerve snaps. I whip up out of my chair and march over to Jeremy's table to look him dead in the eye. 

"Shut up, Jeremy!" I shout. 

I've stolen all the watchers with those three words, but they're not enough to wipe the grin from this jerk's face. 

"You're a lying asshole," I tell him. "You know Jayda didn't have sex with you."

There are a few gasps from the girls nearby, but Jeremy's glare only hardens on me. 

"And who the hell are you to know anything?" he sneers. 

"I'm her friend," I answer, "and you need to stop talking about her, because we both know what really happened, and it wasn't what you say."

Maybe he's about to respond, but I don't stay to hear it. I turn around and hurry out of the cafeteria to search for Jayda. 

**Jayda's POV**

This washroom is always empty during lunch period, because it's the farthest from the cafeteria, and nobody wants to walk this far—except me of course. I want to be away from everyone in this whole stupid school. I just wish this rumour would go away, but I know it won't. Sure, it will die down over time, but it will always be there, hanging in the back of people's heads when I talk to them. They'll always think they know more about me than they do, and it will always taint my name. Maybe I could get my name legally changed. 

The sound of footsteps makes me pull my head out of my knees and look up from where I'm sitting on the floor by the sink. Coming in is one of the last people I expect. 

"Andreas," I say, "this is the girls' washroom."

"Yeah," he responds, sinking down beside me on the tiles, "but you're here."

I don't know why he even cares. We're not all that close. If our families weren't lifelong friends, he would just be another one of the playboys in our grade who try to get girls like my friends. I'm pretty sure neither of us have even told any of our friends that we know each other. 

I sniffle and reach up to dab my eye with my sleeve. Seeing that, Andreas digs into his pocket and pulls out a white square. 

"Tissue?" he offers. 

I take it, feeling a smile come to my face. "What are you? A Kleenex commercial?"

"I'm just a friend who cares about you and doesn't want to see you cry."

Something about those words make me pause, like the world is readjusting its colours for a moment. Slowly, I bring the tissue up to my cheeks to soak up the tears, but I keep looking at the boy sitting next to me. I guess he's not just a horny idiot after all. He's, like, an actual person. 

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

I'm sitting on the couch with Buffy, watching the Sports Network on TV, when Brayden drops down beside me with a huge sigh. 

"Hard day at work?" I ask. 

"You have no idea," the boy responds. "I had to fire an employee today. He tried to fold the newspapers into paper airplanes to speed up the delivery process. Gave two men paper cuts on their foreheads and lost me eighty dollars in merchandise."

Buffy leans forward at that. "You used eighty dollars of our paper?"

"Relax," Brayden tells her, letting his tired eyes fall closed. "That's what the bank loan is for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the mid-season finale. There's going to be approximately a week-long break before the last six episodes of the season premiere, which I'll be using to redo my room and buy antiques and stuff. I'm also wanting to know if you guys think I should renew the show or not, so please let me know in the comments if you'd be interested to see a season 2. I've got a ton of really cool ideas planned out already, so please let me know. I love you all. Bye!


	22. S1 E8.1: Flower Girl

**Buffy's POV**

Flowers burst up from between the stones that line the pathway leading up to the white wood doors. The roof of the building is arched with rustic pillars carved with a floral pattern. I bet inside will be just a nice.

Marty and I walk with Cara between us, holding both our hands, while Brayden and Andreas trail behind.

"Wow," I breathe. "Iris and Libby really picked a beautiful venue for their wedding."

Suddenly, I realize the amount of weight on my arm is beyond normal, and I glance down to see Cara hanging from my hand and Marty's, letting her feet drag behind her as we pull her.

"Cara, walk," I order.

"But it's like a ride!"

"You either walk now, or you walk home," Marty tells her.

"I'm okay with that," the girl replies.

"Stop it. You're gonna rip your dress," I say.

She plants her feet on the ground and lets go of our hands. Thankfully, her white, lacy dress appears to be in tact.

"Jayda says they're not called rips," Cara says. "It's called distressed, and it's fashionable."

"Sweetie, there shouldn't be anything distressed at weddings," I state. "That's for divorces. You're the flower girl. You need to keep your dress clean until the wedding, okay?"

"Okay," Cara answers with a pout.

To my left, I notice TJ and Cyrus's family walking from the parking lot up to us. TJ swings his keys around his finger before clutching them again and giving us a nod.

"Cara, wanna roll down a hill to kill time?" TJ suggests.

A smile splats onto my girl's face as she runs up to her uncle, and he crouches down to let her hop onto his back for a piggyback, but I go up to pull her off, shaking my head.

**Jayda's POV**

With my arms crossed and mouth in a closed smile, I saunter over to Andreas on the pathway. He has his eyes on me as I approach, but my eyes are on his pine green tie that he's paired with his black suit.

"Nice tie," I compliment. "I like the green."

"It's green?" Andreas responds, looking down in surprise. "I thought it was brown."

"Right," I remember. "I forgot you were colourblind. Well, you're lucky it's green, because brown would've clashed bad with the black suit."

"Hey, guys," Marty calls out, getting our attention, "why don't you two go inside and see if anyone needs help with decorations."

"Sure thing," Andreas responds, and the two of us head for the doors.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

I'm already in my own sage-coloured dress that reflects light down the whole skirt to the floor, the same one that all the bridesmaids are wearing, and now I'm helping Libby put the embroidered veil into her updo in the small room that she's able to change in before her wedding. Once I'm finished clipping it into her hair, the girl turns to face the standing mirror, and her hands come up to cover her mouth as she stares at herself in awe. Her dress has a vintage look to it, with embraoidered white flowers all the way down the train, and long sleeves that stop before her shoulders to show a bare collarbone that she's bedazzled with a gold necklace. Hazel looks from where she's sitting on a chair behind me, just as wowed as the bride herself.

"You look beautiful," I tell Libby, signing it at the same time. "Iris won't be able to take her eyes off you."

Libby looks at me in the mirror with a smile.

"Has she seen the dress?" I ask.

Libby shakes her head and signs, _"I'm not taking any chances to make this go wrong, so I'm following all the wedding traditions, except for the groom part, but I'm wearing old shoes, a new dress, my mother's necklace that I borrowed, and..."_ Her eyes dart around her image before she realizes, _"I forgot the blue!"_

"Here," Hazel speaks up, and she hands me a tiny, blue piece of paper.

I look at it for a second before asking, "Is this a bus ticket?"

"She's a lesbian," Hazel states. "Make it into a dangly earring."

I spin to face Libby again and translate what Hazel said for her, and Libby lets out a breathy laugh, responding, _"That works."_

She takes the bus ticket and raises it up to her ear, examining it in the mirror to envision what it will turn out like. When she brings it down, she nods, confirming that it will be good.

Then she turns toward me again, signing, _"I wonder how Iris and Amber are doing getting ready."_

**Amber's POV**

"The best part of having a white dress is that you can accidentally bleach it, and nothing would change," I say.

I try to avoid stepping on Iris's dress while lacing it up in her dressing room. It's a mermaid-style dress that puffs out from the knees to the floor. The top is strapless with a sweetheart neckline. I was there to help her pick it out, and it looks even better on her now than it did then.

"That happened to your wedding dress, right?" Iris asks in response to my statement.

"Yes, and Andi never noticed a thing."

I finish tying the back and step away, allowing Iris to twirl in the mirror, admiring herself.

"It's as beautiful as I remember," she says, beaming.

"Even nicer knowing that it was on sale," I add.

She grins at me then looks in the mirror again, swaying her skirt around like a white sea wave. Suddenly, she stops as something tugs her dress tight, and her face wrinkles in worry.

"Oh my gosh," she mumbles. "Um..."

"Are you stuck?" I question.

"It looks that way," she responds.

I lift up my own bridesmaid dress and kneel down, letting the fabric parachute around me. The white tulle of Iris's dress is wedged into the frame of the mirror. I try to unhook it, but it doesn't budge.

"Okay," I say. "Don't freak out."

"I wasn't until now," my friend cries.

"I'm your matron of honour. It's my job to fix this, and I will."

I try again, this time wiggling the fabric a little, but it stays firm in the frame.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Inside, employees rush around, trying to put the finishing touches on the decorations in the banquet hall where the wedding will be taking place. The colour scheme is blush pink with ivory, and the flower pots and lacy garland show off the two brides' feminine personalities well. Libby's artsy side shows through in the colourful ribbons used to wrap the seats for the audience. Outside the banquet hall is the foyer where Andreas and I are standing, watching the other guests gradually enter in. I gasp when my eye finds who I assume must be a bridesmaid, because her pale green dress reaches her feet and has fabric flower embellishments like a fairy would have.

"Wait, is that a bridesmaid?" I say. "That dress is stunning."

Andreas looks over at where I'm fixated and makes his own judgement. "That green makes her look like a cabbage."

"How would you know?" I snipe. "You can't see green."

When my eyes move up to her makeup, I begin to pay attention to her lips, and then her words come into range, and I'm completely enthralled by the conversation she's having with another woman.

"I can see green," Andreas argues, "just not the way you see it."

"Shhh, shut up," I tell him, putting my finger up to silence him, my eyes still on the bridesmaid. "She's talking about something."

"He's one of Iris's bridesmen, and I'm going to have to walk down the isle with him," the bridesmaid whines. "How can one expect me to do that without remembering how deeply I am in love with him?"

"Oh, Maria, he loves you too," says the other woman. "You must mend your relationship before it's too late."

"But I must respect my parents' wishes. They want me to be with someone intelligent and successful. A musician is too wild and uncertain for their taste. It doesn't matter how thoughtful or romantic he is."

Andreas cuts in, muttering, "Are we in a soap opera?"

"Andreas, she feels conflicted," I explain, my voice dreamy from the romanticism of the bridesmaid's dilemma. "She's caught between her duty to her parents and her love for her man."

"I think I've heard a Michael Bublé song about that," Andreas responds.

I brush off his disinterestedness and say, "We have to get them together."


	23. S1 E8.2: Flower Girl

**Walker's POV**

By the time Jonah and I get to the venue, there are already many people mingling amongst themselves outside, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Jonah and I are dressed to the nines in our tuxes, but some of the other guests here in their suits and dresses are really outshining us.

"Is it weird going to the wedding of a girl you dated in middle school?" I ask my husband.

"No weirder than Andi and Amber's wedding," he replies.

He glances around at all the people, but then he freezes at the sight of one woman with ginger hair, but she's not one of the brides.

"Uh, let's go through a different door," Jonah says.

He reaches for my arm and starts pulling me back toward the parking lot, but I keep my feet sturdy on the floor, making him circle back to me.

"There's only one door," I tell him. "What are you trying to avoid?"

"That's Libby's sister," Jonah says, nodding toward the ginger.

"And...?"

"When I was dating Libby, something happened. I won't say what, but it was bad."

"Bad enough to make you want to detour through an imaginary door?"

"Yes," he confirms.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

"Are you sure about this?" Andreas asks.

I'm peaking into the room where the bridesmaid went to sit. Inside are a bunch of fake plants around mismatched furniture, and photos on the walls. It's empty, since most of the guests are all in the banquet hall or foyer at the moment. This is the perfect opportunity to talk to the bridesmaid without any distractions, and I'm honestly offended that Andreas is questioning my choice.

"Yes," I answer.

He starts to talk again, but I ignore him, going up to the bridesmaid instead, and giving her a smile, while Andreas stays in the doorway.

"Hi," I say. "I'm Jayda, and you look amazing."

"Oh, thank you," she responds kindly. "So do you."

I look down at my own ruby red bodycon dress, saying, "Thank you."

"How do you know the brides?" the bridesmaid, who's name was Maria if I recall correctly, asks.

"Oh, my aunts are close friends with them. Also, my dad dated one in middle school, and my uncle dated the other."

"Oh," she responds, furrowing her eyebrows. "That's...weird."

"I know, right," I agree cheerfully. "I was planning to bring my boyfriend as my plus one, but we broke up."

I wasn't planning on that. Even if Jeremy and I didn't break up, he was never much of a respectful event kind of guy. But I'm trying to steer the conversation where I need it to go.

Maria's eyes go sympathetic. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It was for the best. He was an artist, and my parents didn't want me to be with him."

That's all it takes to open the dam, for she begins to spill about herself, saying, "Wow. I'm actually in a similar situation."

"Really?" I respond, resting my elbow on my knee and leaning in. "Say more."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

I've been holding Cara's hand this whole time, making sure she doesn't get into trouble. I have no idea where Brayden and Andreas are, but they're not featured in the wedding, so I don't care if they get their clothes dirty. Marty walks alongside me and our daughter into the banquet hall where two giant pots of assorted flowers frame the entryway. Our of the corner of my eye, I see Cara running her hand over the blossoms, and then she holds her palm up with a gasp.

"Look, Mom! I'm getting super powers!"

I turn to her and see faint yellow coating all her fingers, which makes me stressed instantaneously.

"No, that's pollen," I correct her, taking her hand to keep it out. "Don't touch your dress."

"I'll grab some napkins," Marty says.

I glance back as he starts walking to say, "Could you also get—"

"Extra?" Marty cuts in with a grin. "I will."

A smile finds my face, and he goes off to do as asked. _Extra napkins._ He knows me. He always has.

After a moment of reminiscing, I return my attention to my daughter.

"Okay, Cara, you have to keep your dress clean, so you're not allowed to touch anything until after the wedding. Got it?"

She gives me a big nod. "Okay."

Marty appears behind me with the napkins, and I take a few to rub Cara's hand clean. Once that's done, I'm about to continue walking into the banquet hall when I notice Wyatt walking through the lobby carrying a bunch of rocks in his arms. They create a layer of dust on his dress shirt, but he's unbothered by it.

"Wyatt, what are you doing?" I question.

"I found these in the garden and thought they'd be cool in my room," he answers.

"Can I have one?" Cara chirps.

Wyatt nods, and Cara takes a step out, but I pull her right back.

"No," I say to Cara. "And Wyatt, you can't have them either. Go put them back. Where are your dads?"

Wyatt just shrugs.

**Amber's POV**

I stand on the side, not blinking, while Cyrus and TJ are bent down by the mirror, and Iris is trying to not let herself hyperventilate from all the anxious breathing she's doing. After I coudln't get the dress unstuck, I found my brother and brother in law to help, but even with Cyrus's precise touch, the skirt stays stuck.

"I'm afraid of ripping the dress," Cyrus says.

Iris's expression goes even tenser, and she looks to me, saying, "What are the chances you'd carry the mirror down the isle with me?"

"I'm be honoured, but I'm also too weak for that."

TJ scoots into Cyrus's spot, saying, "Let me try."

He gives the dress a yank, and the mirror topples over, but thankfully Cyrus manages to catch it before it can smash on the floor.

"Good thing it didn't break," Cyrus says with a breath of relief. "That would be bad."

He lifts it back upright, and I spot a slice in my reflection.

"Nope," I respond. "There's a crack."

Iris's heavy breathing kicks back into gear as she says, "Oh, God. Did you at least free my dress?"

The look on TJ's face doesn't seem promising as he answers, "Yes, but..."

He raises the tulle, showing the hole that's been torn through it, and I reach out to hold Iris's shoulder, worried she might faint from stress.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Andreas now sits next to me on the bench with Maria who's sobbing so hard that her mascara should be running, but it's not. It's amazingly waterproof. I'll have to find out what kind she uses. Andreas passes me one of the tissues that he always keeps on hand, and I pass it along to Maria who takes it and blows her nose.

"I love him," she cries. "I do. But my family would never support us."

"But doesn't true love conquer all?" I reason.

"If true love came with a master's degree in engineering, then my parents would be ecstatic."

"Maria," I say sternly, "you only get so many chances at love. You're, like, fifty—"

"I'm thirty-four—"

"You might not have another opportunity like this one. You cannot let this man go."

"But my parents..."

"Who cares about what your parents think!" I reply. "I never listen to my parents, and I'm doing fine. What you need to do is march up to this man and tell him you love him and want to be with him!"

I feel like a football coach giving a pep talk before a game, and Maria raises her chin in confidence like one of my players.

"You're right," she agrees.

In the doorway appears a man in a suit with a tie the same sage colour as Maria's dress. He looks at her with gleaming eyes, eyes of longing. This is the man.

"Renaldo!" Maria calls.

Maria bolts up to her feet in an instant, and the two pull together, meeting in the middle, their gazes fawning over each other. 

"Renaldo," Maria repeats, "I was wrong to push you away. I love you, and I need you in my life."

"This is a surprise," Renaldo responds, his voice deep and his accent Spanish. "I have a Tinder date tonight."

"What?" weeps Maria. "You moved on that fast?"

Renaldo takes the woman's hands and raises them up between him and his lover, saying, "But I'll cancel for you, my love."

"Oh, Renaldo!"

He pulls her into a kiss, and it's romantic and steamy, like something out of a movie.

"This is weird," Andreas comments beside me.

"Yeah," I admit, "but it's still sweet."


	24. S1 E8.3: Flower Girl

**Buffy's POV**

The banquet hall is filling up as people take their seats. Marty's went ahead and gotten chairs for our family, while I'm standing in the center isle, scanning the room to find my oldest kid. I finally spot him moseying in with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face.

"There you are!" I say. "Where have you been?"

"Reuniting star-crossed lovers," Andreas answers.

"Okay, I'm not gonna ask. Just go sit down. It's starting soon, and I need to bring Cara to the back to get ready."

"Where is Cara?"

I look down by my side, and she's not there anymore. Frantically, I sweep my eyes over all the people, trying to pinpoint my daughter's curly, brown hair. I find her sitting beside Brayden on a chair at the very back row, not where my husband has chosen chairs for us. While Brayden reads his book, Cara is sucking on a red lollipop, which makes me move at double speed to go over there and take it from her hand.

"Cara, no food," I remind her. "Where did you even get this?"

"Brayden gave it to me," she replies, and I give Brayden a hard look.

"What?" he says defensively. "It keeps her quiet."

"Okay, Cara, let's go to the back where they're going to give you your basket of flower petals."

"Pretty," Cara responds with a smile, and she hops down off her chair to come with me.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

Hazel's left to find her seat, while I remain with Libby in her dressing room, helping her practice her vows, but a knock on the door interrupts us, and I look over to see a concerned Amber coming in.

"Libby, hi," she says to her. "You look beautiful." Then she turns to me, opting not to sign as she asks, "Can I talk to you for a second?"

I go over to her, and her worried expression starts to spread to me.

"Can you sew something?" she asks.

"Why? What ripped?"

"Iris's dress."

"One of the brides' dresses is ripped?" I react in shock.

"Yes. Now can you sew it?"

"I don't have my sewing kit on me."

Of all the days I decide to leave it at home, it has to be the one day I need it.

"Well, who else would have one?" Amber wonders.

Both our eyes light up simultaneously.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

I'm relived when Amber comes back in, bringing Andi with her, because hopefully I won't have to keep trying to calm Iris down, and we can just get the dress fixed. TJ steps back to where I am to get out of the way of the workers.

"Andi," Iris cheers. "Perfect. Can you fix it?"

"No," Andi replies, "but we brought someone who can."

Brayden marches into the room with a sewing needle and white thread in hand, saying, "Where's the tear?"

Iris points to the hole, and Brayden kneels down to begin the mending.

"Thank you," Amber tells him.

Without looking up, Brayden responds, "E-transfer speaks louder than words."

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Jonah and I walk past the rows of seats to get to ours, but right as I'm about to turn down our row, Jonah grabs my arm and stops me.

"Great," he mutters. "She's in the seat in front of mine."

"Jonah, whatever happened was in middle school. I'm sure she doesn't care anymore."

He shakes his head. "No, this was bad."

"What even happened?"

"Okay," he breathes. "I'll tell you, but you can't judge me. When I was dating Libby, I accidentally broke her sister's laptop and blamed it on the cat."

"You blamed it on her cat?" I repeat with a chuckle.

"Yeah, but that's not the worst part. The cat ran away the next day. I think it could feel the way she was glaring at it."

"Does she even know that you were the one who broke it?" I question.

"I don't know."

"Well, we can't just stand here the whole time," I say.

"Are you sure? It would be like a constant standing ovation."

I take Jonah's hand and pull him along, saying, "Come on."

"Okay," Jonah sighs. "I guess it's time to be honest anyway and get this off my chest."

Our seats are beside Hazel's, who gives me a nod as I lower down next to her. Jonah has his eyes glued to the back of the woman's head ahead of us, anticipating what is surely about to come. And then it does, for she notices Jonah behind her and turns around, giving him a friendly smile. 

"Jonah!" she says.

Jonah paints a smile on his face to hide his nerves and responds, "Ellie! How are you?"

"Great. What about you?"

"Great."

The woman returns her focus ahead of her, and Jonah's smile turns from fake to real as he leans back in his chair, relaxed.

"I guess she doesn't know," he says.

"Aren't you going to tell her to get it off your chest?" I ask.

He considers that for a second before answering, "No, I'm good."

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

I can't recall the exact name of the song the violin is playing, but I swear I've heard it in the background of a Disney movie before. Everyone in the chairs watches as the bridesmaids and bridesmen walk down the isle, including Auntie Amber and Auntie Andi, two at a time. Jayda sits beside me, and her eyes go soft when it's Maria and Renaldo's turn. I had no intention of repairing a relationship today, but Jayda did it like it was nothing. I guess everyone has their talents, and hers just happens to be rewriting soap opera plot lines in real life.

"Look at them," Jayda whispers. "They're so in love."

"Yeah," I respond. "We might get an invitation to their wedding soon."

**Buffy's POV**

A few more people walk down the isle before Cara takes the spotlight. She smiles sweetly as she floats forward, dropping pink petals on the ground like a fairy with pixie dust.

"Well," Marty says as he leans over to me, "she managed to keep her dress clean."

I smile proudly. "Yeah."

Right as I say that, Cara gets to the end of the isle and wipes her hand on her dress, getting sticky, yellow pollen from the petals on the white fabric.

"Spoke too soon," Marty mutters.

Regardless of our daughter's mess, the wedding carries on, with each of the brides being escorted to the front by their fathers. When the time comes for their vows, both brides are tearing up right from the start, before the first one even starts talking.

"Libby, when I was little, I used to dream about marrying the love of my life, and today, that dream is coming true, thanks to you. You are everything I've ever imagined and so much more, from the way you see the bright side of every situation to how you never let me feel sad for too long. I remember when we met you at your little brother's band concert when we were in high school, and I was the only person in that whole crowd, other than our families, who could talk to you, which at the time I thought was sad, but now I realized how lucky that was, because then when we met again three years ago, because we just happened to be hired to the same company, I remembered your smile and your eyes, and I didn't want to miss you again .... "

Iris finishes her vows, and Libby starts her own while Libby's mother translates on the side for us. She tells a cute story about their first date and how they got stuck in the rain which ended up being the most romantic thing ever, and then Libby gets to the end.

_"... Iris, I promise to stand by you even when we can't dance through the rain. I will love you when it snows and when it hails. If you're sick, I'll take care of you, and no matter what, I won't let you forget that the sun is always out there somewhere .... "_

After the vows, which leave both girls' cheeks glistening from the tears that have streaked them, they exchange rings. Finally, the officiant pronounces them wives, and they kiss, sealing their promise. Clapping erupts from the crowd, and I prepare myself for the massacre of food stains that I'll surely have to try to get out of my daughter's dress after the reception and dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome back! I have the rest of the season outlined, and I have some plot ideas for season 2, but if there are any specific plots or settings or events or even things like items you want me to write about, feel free to comment them. I might not write them, but I like seeing what your ideas are. I love you all. Have a lovely day!


	25. S1 E9.1: Luck of the English

**Amber's POV**

I step out into the living room while saying, "Andi, our room is starting to look like Dr. Suess threw up in it."

Andi's been moving all of her sculptures out of the living room, and because she doesn't trust herself to not trip on our insanely thin stairs to the basement, all of the art is ending up in our room. Even while she responds to me, she's still in the midst of lifting her pop can tab flower off the shelf above the television.

"I'm not taking any chances," she says. "All my sculptures have to be out of the living room before Hazel's birthday party tomorrow. Fourteen and thirteen year-olds have no understanding of how to not touch things."

"In more ways that one," I mutter.

Last year, one of Andi's sculptures was broken, so she clearly wants to avoid that happening again this year. I don't mind having all the works in our room, except that it makes for quite a maze to get to the bed, and having to use the washroom at night would be a nightmare. It also blocks the closet where the things like Hazel's birth certificate are as well as the hospital photos of Andi and I together the day she gave birth to our daughter, which I usually end up looking at this time of the year. Hazel's birthday, along with my wedding day, were the two happiest days of my life.

"Okay," Hazel announces as she comes out from the hallway, "so Fatima, Aimée, and Darius are coming, but Bentley and Selena aren't. That's what I get for having a birthday on St. Patrick's Day."

"How does that affect anything?" Andi questions.

"I don't know! I need a scapegoat!" the girl huffs.

"Well, your cousins are coming too," I mention.

She sighs. "Okay, but not the ones I can't swear in front of."

"You shouldn't be swearing in front of any of them," Andi counters.

Even though we tell Hazel she can't, I know she still swears. I did. Andi didn't until I got her too, but she still did eventually.

"Only Jayda and Andreas," I assure Hazel.

"Okay," she accepts. "That's tolerable."

_________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

My excitement I feel for the day melts the second I see TJ in the kitchen wearing his navy work pants and shirt, the uniform he always has on before he has to put on his protective gear at the fire department. This can't be correct. He should have the day off.

"Um, TJ," I say as I step up to him, "why do you look like you're about to go to work?"

TJ puts down his coffee mug and turns toward me with a sigh. "I'm sorry."

"But you know what day it is," I whine.

"I know," he pouts.

He brings me in against him by the waist, and my frustration turns to bare sadness, because I was hoping I'd get to have more of this throughout the day. At least he keeps me close for now while he continues to talk.

"They called me in last minute. I tried to get the day off, but Tania got sick, and unfortunately 911 calls don't take sick days."

"I wish they would," I mumble.

"I know, but when I get home, we'll celebrate."

"Fine," I accept, "but you have to kiss me before you leave."

He grins. "I'll kiss you right now too."

Our lips pull toward each other, and my heart starts to flutter only to be shot down by a pinch to my arm.

"Ow!" TJ and I say in unison.

We look over to see our son standing there shaking his head.

"Wyatt," I say, to which he just shouts, "Wear green!"

_________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

One thing that most people don't know about TJ is that when he finds something he likes, he puts his whole heart into it. It becomes his passion, and he doesn't let anyone steer him away from it. When we were in high school, he found a Rubix cube and was determined to solve it. It took him four weeks, but he did it without searching it up online. When I was in college, and he was training to become a firefighter, he promised he would get strong enough to carry me up all 32 floors of the tallest hotel in Shadyside. It took a few pauses along the way, but he did it. When he got his wisdom teeth removed at age sixteen, and he was all loopy from the laughing gas, he told me he was going to marry me someday.

For every one of those times, there were people who told him he was trying too hard or reaching too high or thinking too far ahead, but I never doubted him, because what fun was that? Some of our best memories were when he had some idea that seemed crazy to me but was completely logical to his beautiful mind, like when we bored at home at 18, so he drove us to a different state to ride horses. I fell off mine, but he let me sit behind him on his, and he turned out to be pretty good at horseback riding. That photo is just one of the many in the album I'm flipping through at the kitchen island when I hear my daughter enter the room and try to get a glimpse of the pages.

"What are you looking at?" she asks.

"Just pictures."

She sits down on the stool next to me and leans over to see the album better.

"Is that you and Dad?" she asks. Then she gets a closer look at one of the photos and says, "Ew, you guys liked golfing?" She lets out a laugh. "You were old men before you were old men."

"For your information, we weren't golfing," I tell her.

"Then what were you doing in a golf cart?"

"He was driving me to the middle," I answer.

"The middle of what?" she questions.

"It was really cute. You had to be there."

She accepts that, giving me a slow nod.

"So what's so special about today?" she wonders. "Other than it being St. Patrick's Day."

"This was the day of our first kiss," I tell her.

"That's so sweet," she fawns. "On St. Patrick's Day?"

"We were at the park," I start, letting a smile take me over, "and there was a rainbow in the sky, and I remember him wondering what was actually at the end of the rainbow."

That topic causes Jayda to ponder, saying, "What is at the end of a rainbow?"

"Nothing. A rainbow is just light."

"Then I'll let you know now that Wyatt got at least one question wrong on his last science test."

"Anyway," I continue, trying not to think about Wyatt's science grades, "We were sitting there, looking at each other, and there was a group of people nearby playing a song obnoxiously loud on a speaker, but I remember that song, because it gave me this spur of confidence, and I kissed him. That's why we always make such a big deal out of St. Patrick's Day."

"And why there's always a trail of chocolate coins leading to your bedroom after I pretend to go to sleep?" she adds.

I want to defend that, but I can't. "Yeah, that's an odd tradition." But TJ started it the first year we were married, so we don't stop it, and I don't want us to. It's one of the quirky romantic things he does that makes me feel special.

"So when will Papa get home?" Jayda wonders.

"Not until late. I wish he didn't have to work."

She gives me a sympathetic look as she says, "Yeah." Then she hops down off the stool and heads out of the kitchen. "Well, have a good day."

_________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Walker answers the door when the doorbell rings, and Marty and Cara step inside, Cara already dressed in her pink ballet leotard.

"Hey," Marty says, "so dance class is at 6:00. Just don't be late."

"Don't worry," Walker responds. "We won't be."

"Okay, Buffy will be there to pick her up afterward."

Walker nods that he understands, and Cara waves her dad goodbye before he leaves back toward his car. Once Walker closes the door, Cara kicks her shoes off and makes herself comfortable on our couch.

"Do you have tea?" she asks.

"You drink tea?" Walker says in surprise.

"Of course," Cara replies. "I'm a quarter English."

Walker chuckles, saying, "Okay, well, I'll get a kettle on the stove."

While he goes into the kitchen, I sit down on the chair adjacent to Cara's couch. She sits very poise with her leg crossed and her chin up, waiting patiently for her tea.

"Since we have time before we have to go," I say, "why don't you show us one of your dances?"

Cara hesitates a moment before responding, "Oh, sure."

She stands up and walks around behind the coffee table to give herself space to dance. I notice Walker come back into the living room as the girl begins to dance. But she doesn't dance like a happy little fairy the way I thought she would. Instead, her movements are floppy and tired. She only gets through about eight beats of raising her arms and twirling before she stops, dropping her hands back down like they're attached to weights.

"That's all I remember," She says.

That's it? She only knows eight counts of a dance? That's hardly long enough for me to take one breath.

"Don't you have a recital in a couple of weeks?" I question, perplexed.

"I just watch what the other kids are doing and copy them," she responds, "like school."

Walker only manages to make out a confused "Ummmm..." before the kettle starts screeching, and Cara releases a huge exhale.

"Thank goodness," the girl says, relieved, starting toward the kitchen. "I need a break."


	26. S1 E9.2: Luck of the English

**Cyrus's POV**

I haven't had much to do all day. I planned to spend it with TJ, but now I'm just trying to find things to do on my own. I sit in the living room while the television plays a movie, the volume low enough for me to hear the creak of the stairs as my daughter descends them and bends over the top of the couch, putting her head beside mine.

"Daddy," she says, "this is, like, the definition of sad."

"I'm just watching a movie," I argue.

"You're watching one of your own movies," she retorts. "This is like a singer listening to their own music. It's weird."

This is one of the movies I helped edit for the small film company in Shadyside that I work for. It was always my dream to make films, but I also didn't want to leave Shadyside, so my job is pretty much as perfect as it gets. I did do a minor in social work in university, but I've never actually done anything with that.

"Netflix was logged out, and I don't know where your dad keeps the password," I justify.

"Why don't you get out and do something fun," Jayda suggests.

"What would I do?"

"I don't know. Go get groceries or something."

"Jayda, contrary to what you might think, parents don't run errands for fun."

"Okay, then what do you want to do?" she questions.

I pause, considering the options, but I don't know what things I could do that are fun that wouldn't make me wish TJ was there to do them with me.

"I guess we do need groceries," I sigh.

_________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Cara sips on her third cup of tea while Jonah and I sit around on nearby chairs, watching the content little girl raise her pinky with every tilt of the Star Wars mug. When she finishes that cup, she places it down gently on the coffee table and turns her attention to Jonah.

"Can we have a movie night?" she wonders.

"Sure," Jonah responds. "What movie?"

"The Exorcist."

"Cool, I'll get it set up."

He stands up to grab the remote, but I give him a look that pushes him back down. I don't know a ton about parenting, but I do know that you don't show six year-olds horror movies.

"No," I say. "We're not watching that movie, and we don't have time for a movie anyway. We have to get you to dance soon."

Cara just pouts. "Oh, yeah."

I'm starting to notice that she doesn't seem to be very interested in attending her dance class, but I can't really do anything. I have one job to do, and that's to get her to dance class on time. Considering she only knows eight beats of her routine, she can't exactly afford to miss it.

_________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

I step into the house. Alone. The grocery bags are heavy, so they almost drag on the ground as I walk them into the kitchen. I don't think going out helped me to feel better. Instead, it only highlighted how unusually normal my day has been. It's just another day off, but the chalk drawings of clovers on driveways reminded me that it shouldn't be just another day off. Today was supposed to be me and TJ's day. We have the evening, but one evening is like a match in a deep cave. Its light doesn't even skim the walls. Moments like this are when it hits me again that the world wasn't built for me and TJ. It was made for seven billion other people who also need it to turn round for them. That's why TJ and I can't spend every second of every day together, although I wish we could.

"Daddy!" my daughter screams as she bursts out of the doorway that leads into the basement.

She scares me enough to make me jolt, and I set the mushrooms down on the counter to turn to her.

"There's a noise coming from downstairs," she says.

"A noise?" I repeat. "Like the furnace?"

"No, a weird one."

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh my God. Just come on."

She grabs my hand and pulls me down through the door to the basement, while I hope that the frozen food won't get too warm. It's rare that she's this forceful about showing me something, so this noise must sound like Satan's bowel movement.

"Jayda, what is ..."

I step down off the last step, and my eyes stop on TJ's. He sits on the piano bench beside Wyatt, both of them smiling at me, and Jayda runs over to pick up a musical triangle and stick. So many questions run through my mind. What is going on? How is TJ home from work already? Was he fired? Will we have to switch to a cheaper phone plan to save money?

But then my husband spins around to face the piano, and he starts playing the low notes, while Wyatt plays the high notes of a song that sweeps me up in a memory: "[Your Song](https://youtu.be/GlPlfCy1urI)" by Elton John. This is the song. It's the one that was playing at the park when we had our first kiss. And he knows all the words to it. Of course he does. I do too. I follow along in my mind as TJ starts to sing, and his voice gives me chills that swirl like summer wind around my spine.

With the melody comes all the feelings from that day. The excitement. The anticipation. His hand on my jaw and thumb on my cheek. The scent of early spring grass barely greening. The sound of the breeze rattling the swings nearby. Every time TJ takes another breath to sing, I feel one of my own fill me up.

The song concludes with a triangle ding from Jayda, and I remain standing mesmerized while TJ comes over to me, knitting his fingers through mine.

"When did you get off?" I ask.

"The last call was a fire that was put out before we got there, so I was able to convince the captain to let me go early," TJ explains.

I keep my eyes on his for a moment before letting them drop down to his lips, and he steps in to give me chills again, but this time, with his kiss.

Jayda and Wyatt make a beeline for the stairs right away, saying things like "Ew" and "Nope."

Our lips stay together a little bit after the door slams shut at the top of the stairway, and then I lean back with a grin.

"So I have you to myself?" I question.

"Yes," TJ confirms, "and Jayda's going to Hazel's party, and Wyatt's going to a friend's house."

"So we'll be alone?"

"Mmhmm."

TJ returns his lips to mine again, soft and slow like a butterfly landing home. He flutters away with the speed of a cloud, but once apart, he lets me go in a rush.

"Let's go drop them off," he says.

"It's kinda early," I counter. "Wyatt's thing doesn't start for another two hours."

"Well, we're his only ride, so he can't really be mad," TJ reasons, and I smile at that, following him upstairs.

_________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Cara twists around restlessly while holding my hand as Walker and I walk her down the halls of the recreation centre toward the room where her dance class is. When we get up to the open door, Walker and I stop, and I let go of Cara's hand, but she doesn't go yet. She stares in at the kids running around, a frown on her face.

"Cara," Walker says, "you don't like dance, do you?"

"What?" she responds. "I love it here. Max always brings his rat, and sometimes we put lipstick on it."

"Okay, but what about the actual dancing part?" Walker presses.

Cara's head drops down, and she mutters, "I don't really like that part."

"What?" I say. "Then why do you do it?"

"Because Mommy and Daddy always say how much they like watching me, and I liked it when I was littler, but now it's just kinda boring. I want to do something else." When she raises her head again, her eyes are caught on the room across the hall. "Like that!"

Walker and I spin around as the girl runs across through the open door of the karate class starting up. Kids in karate gis leave their parents at the door to enter in, but some are just in simple shorts and T-shirts, making me a little confused. Suddenly, a woman in her own karate gi walks up to Walker and me with a smile.

"You're here for open the open lesson?" she assumes.

"Huh?" I respond.

"Kids ages six to ten can learn a free lesson tonight," she explains.

Right after talking, she notices another family approaching her and turns to greet them. I guess Cara is actually allowed to be here, and she looks really happy as she talks to the other kids, showing off her own fight moves that she's seen on TV.

"Well, look at that," I say.

"Should we get her back to the dance class?" Walker wonders.

I look at Cara again and think for a second before answering, "Nah."


	27. S1 E9.3: Luck of the English

**Hazel's POV**

Birthdays for me have never been big. I don't have enough friends to make them big. It's always just me and a few others sitting around a bowl of chips and playing card games or watching a movie. Darius, Andreas, Fatima, and Aimée are all playing slapjack. I was the first one out, which isn't like me, but I don't really feel like me today. It has nothing to do with my birthday or with my friends here. It has to do with the person not here.

My back is starting to ache from leaning awkwardly on the edge of the couch while sitting on the floor, so I adjust my position, but it doesn't help. My friends' hands slap the cards, spiking the air every time. _Slap!_ Pause. _Slap!_ Quiet. _It's just a game. Why are you so anxious?_ _Slap! Oh, that's why your so anxious._ I tap open my messages on my phone and see the one I sent to Camille an hour ago.

 **Me:** Hey. The party's started. Are you coming?

It's unread. She didn't even read it. Am I making a big deal out of nothing? Is that diminishing my feelings to say it's nothing? Why isn't she here?

The doorbell rings, and I swear my heart almost implodes. I get up and race to open the door. Finally, she's...here. Not here. She's not here. It's just Jayda.

"Oh," I utter.

Jayda gives me a critical look, saying, "Wow. You act like I'm your French teacher showing up here."

"Sorry," I say. "It's just...my girlfriend hasn't shown up yet."

"Well, maybe something came up," Jayda suggests.

"Yeah," I mumble. "You're right. I'm just being insecure."

Jayda flips her hair, responding, "I have that effect on people."

She steps on in past me, and I close the door, even though I hope I'll have to open it again soon. Please make me have to open it again soon.

_________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Walker and I are watching Cara's karate class through the glass window from the hall when Buffy suddenly steps up beside me, and I realize it's been an hour already, and this is when Cara's dance class would've ended, which we didn't take her to.

"Oh, hey!" I say, trying to act like casual, but under the surface, I'm preparing myself for Buffy's judgement. Oddly, that never comes.

"So no more dance class, huh?" she says instead.

"Yeah," I respond. "Sorry, but she really didn't like dance, and she was so into this—"

"It's fine," Buffy interrupts. "I was thinking was was starting to lose interest. I just wish I could get my money back for the rest of this year's dance classes since it looks like I'll be putting her into karate instead."

"She's really good," Walker comments.

"Of course she is," Buffy agrees with a grin. "She's my kid. Whenever she wants to do something, she puts her everything into it."

_________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Gifts have been opened. Movies finished. Games played. Food eaten. People gone. Moon up. Candles blown out. None were missed. Means no boyfriends.

She never came. I spent my whole party waiting for her to show up, but she didn't. Like expecting the wind to push the clouds away, but they just stay there, stuck in an alternate timeline where everything moves slower, like a turtle, and to you, light takes years to hit the earth, and you're starting to wonder if it will ever get there. And it doesn't. Because the gifts have been opened, the moon is up, the candles are blown out, and it's done. There's no more time.

I make scratches in the kitchen table with my fingernail while Mommy carries her sculptures back out into the living room. I said I didn't want to talk when my moms asked. I still don't, but mostly because I don't have the energy.

"Jayda," Mommy says as my cousin passes by, "when are your dads picking you up?"

"If there were chocolate coins involved, I might be sleeping over."

"I won't ask," Mommy responds to that.

My pity party is breached when Jayda sinks down into the chair next to me.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I insist. "What? You expect me to cry over a girl?"

Now I'm starting to cry over a girl, and Jayda notices that and puts her hand on my shoulder.

"Okay," she says. "Let's go to your room."

I let her guide me down the hallway into my cream-toned bedroom where I collapse onto my dandelion yellow comforter. Jayda settles beside me, looking at me glumly.

"Have you tried to call her?" she asks.

"Yeah, I've—"

Cancel that. I'm getting a video call from Camille right now.

"I'll leave," Jayda says before getting up and leaving me alone in my room.

I'm about to hit the answer button, but then I halt to quickly peak in my mirror on the wall to make sure my makeup isn't smeared. When I'm sure it isn't, I tap my phone, and Camille's face appears on the screen.

"Sorry," she says, "you were calling?"

She doesn't look apologetic or tired or concerned at all. She looks normal, like she didn't just miss my birthday, and that stings me. _She doesn't even care._

"Where were you?" I question.

"I was working on homework and had my phone away. Why?"

_Why? WHY? SERIOUSLY?_

"Um, it was kind of my birthday," I sass back.

I tried too keep my cool, but that's gone now. A welding torch of frustration evaporated it away.

Camille's eyes go wide. "That was today?"

"Yeah. I told you yesterday...and last week...and last month."

"I forgot. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you."

"How? Are you going to rewind the day and show up?"

"Hazel, I was busy," she insists, which only makes me more mad.

"You're always busy, Camille!" I snap. "I get busy too, but when we make plans, I come. Remember last month when I came to your family's weird gardening party because you didn't want to be stuck with them all night?"

Camille scrambles to respond, "And you taught them so much about plants."

"That's because my grandpa is, like, Father Nature. But I had a test the next day that I barely passed, because you wanted me to come with you."

"I didn't tell you to do that."

"No, but I wanted to make you happy," I explain, hearing my voice crack as my tears return, now stronger than ever, "and I thought maybe you would've wanted to come to my birthday to make me happy."

"I'm sorry," she repeats, but it means nothing more than dead air. "What else do you want from me?"

"Nothing!" I shout. Then my volume drops down as I take a moment to breathe before saying, "Nothing. I think we should break up."

"You're breaking up with me over this?"

Over this. Over one thing. But a deer can die in one shot. So sometimes one thing can be everything. This is one of those times. It was my birthday, one thing that she should've cared about. But she didn't. Now she doesn't have to.

"Yes," I confirm, trying to sound strong, but I'm crumpling like tin foil. "Bye, Camille."

I press my finger to my screen to hang up the call before I can change my mind. My phone goes blank for a second before switching to my lock screen, which is a picture of me and Camille. I guess I have to change that now.

The doorknob twists, and in comes Jayda looking at me with empathy, saying, "Aw, baby, do you need a hug?" Then she adds, "I totally wasn't listening through the door. I'm just psychic."

I don't care how false that statement is. I open my arms, and Jayda runs up to fill them. This feels better...I think. I don't know. I wonder if I'll ever know, or if I'll always wonder whether I made the right choice to break up with Camille. But I guess the good thing about being only fourteen is that I still have time to change my choices.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys, so I love this episode so much. I really hope you guys liked it and felt stuff. I love you all, and I'll see you very soon with the next one.


	28. S1 E10.1: One-On-One

**Cyrus's POV**

The whole Good Hair Family is together once again for a meal, this time at Buffy's house for lunch. Her kitchen table is the longest, of everyone's, but we still need to set up two more collapsable plastic tables to fit everyone in, as always. Good thing our family isn't getting any bigger, because otherwise we'd need another table added on.

"Uncle TJ," Andreas says through a half-full mouth, "the pasta salad is really good."

"Thanks," TJ responds with a pleased smile.

He'd been wanting to try that recipe for weeks, but it called for sun-dried tomatoes, which we kept forgetting to buy.

"Yeah, it is," Jayda agrees.

"I'm glad you think so," I say, "because we have enough extra at home to last us the next four dinners."

TJ and I laugh a little as Jayda glares at Andreas, grumbling, "Why'd you have to bring it up?"

We may have gotten the measurements wrong when cooking and accidentally made seven times the amount the book called for, but I suppose you can never have enough vegan pasta salad.

"I have cookies for desert," Amber mentions.

That is immediately met with a lot of uncomfortable looks as everyone finds a reason why they can't eat them.

"I'm not really hungry for dessert," Brayden says.

"I'm cutting back on sugar," Jayda chimes in.

"I want cookies," Wyatt says.

TJ leans over to him to say, "Trust me. You don't."

Amber rolls her eyes, saying, "Relax. I bought them," and all three tables sigh in relief.

"Andi," I say, changing the topic to something I'm more curious about, "How was that sculpture you were working on for that big hotel company?"

"Fantastic," my friend replies eagerly. "They ended up paying me enough to pay for most of Hazel's college tuition."

Wow. It must be really nice to have a kid who she really trusts will be going to college.

"That's awesome!" Walker says to Andi.

"Yeah. My art's been doing pretty well lately. I have a ton of people wanting sculptures."

Beside Andi, Amber suddenly stands up, looking a little unsettled, and saying, "I'm gonna get more water." She grabs her glass before hurrying away from the table.

While she's gone, her daughter returns from the bathroom and plops down in the seat next to Brayden's.

"What's with the stuffed basketball in the bathroom?" Hazel questions.

"That's mine!" Cara shouts. "You didn't pee on it, did you?"

Hazel is taken aback, saying, "Ew, no. How would that even happen?"

"Ask Wyatt," Cara mumbles, and all eyes go to my son.

"I think it's offensive that you think my aim isn't flawless," Wyatt responds before chomping down on one of Buffy's tuna sandwiches.

"Then what was on my pillow?"

"That was milk," Wyatt answers, which only creates more questions.

"Why did you have milk in the washroom?" Brayden asks.

"Okay, we're eating," Andi interrupts, ending that conversation.

"I'll back up a bit to the basketball thing," TJ says. "Cara, when did you start liking basketball?"

"I don't really like the actual game," the girl replies. "I just use the pillow to sit on when my brothers kick me off the couch to play video games."

"My sister does the same thing, but not for video games," Wyatt joins in. "She just needs more space for her big head."

"Wyatt," Jayda says calmly, "don't forget that I know where you live."

"So basketball," Hazel says, bringing the talk back on track. She looks at TJ. "You play, right?"

"Yeah," TJ answers. "Played in middle and high school. Was the team captain in middle school."

"Mom was the team captain of the girls' team, right?" Andreas checks.

"Yeah," Buffy replies.

Hazel chuckles and says, "So who's better?"

The tension spikes as TJ and Buffy share a glance.

"You shouldn't have asked that," Jonah mutters.

"There have been countless games," I explain, "and both of them are pretty equally matched."

"We haven't played against each other in a while," Buffy points out. "How about some one-on-one?"

TJ's not near as competitive as Buffy, but he would never turn down an opportunity to play basketball, so he smiles and narrows his eyes.

"It's on, Slayer."

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

Buffy and Marty have their own little basketball court in their backyard. It only has one net over a rectangle of concrete, but it's all we need to play. The two of us get ready on the court while the rest of the family gets seated in chairs around it and on the patio nearby. Although Jayda and Andreas are sitting on a couch to watch, the rest of the kids are elsewhere, Cara and Wyatt running around on the grassy side of the yard, Hazel rocking on the swinging seat by the garden, and Brayden out of sight completely. But all our friends are watching, and our husbands hold up a whiteboard, ready to keep score from their seats. I get ready with the ball, and Buffy prepares to steal it.

"On your mark!" Cyrus shouts. "Get set! Go!"

To this day, Cyrus still doesn't understand the difference between how a basketball game starts and how a race starts, but I don't care. It's adorable. Unfortunately, that thought distracts me as I start dribbling, and Buffy snatches the ball out of the air right away.

**Marty's POV**

Buffy scores the first basket, and Cyrus marks down a one on the whiteboard.

"You still don't know how to score basketball?" I question.

"I've tried to learn," he responds, "but I always get distracted."

"By what?"

The ball drops through the net again, this time from TJ's throw, and the blonde jogs around the edge of the court, running his hands through his hair, a sight that makes Cyrus stare.

"By that," Cyrus answers after another second.

The basketball game continues, but now it is taking much longer for anyone to get a shot in, because both opponents are getting better at blocking. I look over at Andreas and Jayda who are having their own conversation to my left. Well, Andreas is conversing. Jayda is focused on her phone.

"My mom's gonna crush your dad," Andreas tells her.

"Cool," she says mindlessly then sits forward. "What do you think of me in—" she holds her phone out for Andreas to see "—this dress."

His eyes go wide, and he responds, "I feel like I shouldn't be thinking of that."

"Dad!" comes my daughter's voice, making me turn around to see her tired face. "I'm bored. Can I draw chalk on the driveway?"

"Well, we're scoring the game, so we can't come."

"Wyatt can go with her," Cyrus suggests.

The boy runs over at the sound of his name, saying, "Huh?"

"Go to the front with Cara to watch her," Cyrus tells his son.

"But I'm in the middle of catching worms," the boy argues.

"Why are you doing that?" Cyrus questions, confused.

"I'm gonna keep them to watch them turn into butterflies."

"You'll be waiting a very long time for that, because caterpillars are the ones that change into butterflies."

Wyatt's eyebrows turn down in anger as he huffs, "Jayda lied to me! That witch!"

"Wyatt, what have I told you," Cyrus says sternly. "You can't trust your sister's knowledge of science. Just go with Cara."

Wyatt sighs. "Okay."

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

After a while of watching the game, I get hungry and convince Walker to come find food with me. There are plenty of leftovers in Buffy and Marty's fridge, so Walker and I both steal slices of cheesecake from there. While I'm snacking on that, Walker closes the fridge again with a frown.

"They don't have any soda left," he says.

"Not in there."

I set down my little plate and fork to go over to the sink, under which I open one of the cabinet doors and reach for a cola from the stash behind the garbage bin. Walker looks at it in awe as I pass the can to him.

"We really spend a lot of time here, huh?" he says.

"Marty keeps extra here to keep the kids from finding them," I explain.

Right as I finish talking, Brayden steps into the kitchen from the living room, and I kick the cabinet door closed quickly.

"Brayden, why aren't you outside with the family?" I ask.

"Why are you not outside?" he counters.

"Just getting some...um..."

"I know about my dad's stash of pop," the boy says.

"Oh," I breathe in relief.

"So why are you inside?" Walker asks again.

"I have a paper I have to write by Monday," Brayden replies as he gets himself a glass of water.

"What's it about?" Walker asks.

"It's a personal essay about a defining moment in my life."

"That's cool," I respond. "What moment are you writing about?"

"A moment," he answers awkwardly. "An excellent one."

Walker looks at him curiously. "You don't have a moment, do you?"

"Personal essays are feckless," the boy huffs. "I'm acclimated to writing about history or authors' perspectives on history in the form of novels. But my life doesn't have a theme or a climax or a resolution, nor did it make any indelible imprint on society. My teacher has more imperative tasks to complete than reading the shoddy work of a sixth-grader writing about his own dull life."

I didn't catch most of that.

"You're fun," I say, hoping that's the right response.

Walker takes over, saying, "Brayden, your life has many important moments."

"Name one," Brayden demands.

"Well, um..." He starts thinking, but Brayden doesn't give him the time.

"That's only two words," he says. "I need five hundred."

"Well, we could help you," Walker offers.

"Wouldn't you rather be watching the game?"

"That game's gonna be going on for a long time," I respond. "I'm not worried about missing anything."


	29. S1 E10.2: One-On-One

**Wyatt's POV**

Nobody's outside except for me and Cara. There are some cars, but they're all just black or grey, nothing exciting. I'm planning on getting monster truck when I turn sixteen. I don't know how much they cost, but they're tall, so I can run things over to go fast. Not people. I just mean, like, small things, like smart cars.

Cara drops down a box of colourful chalk sticks before sitting down on the cement driveway and starting to draw lines overtop of the remains of a washed-away cactus sketch.

"What are you drawing?" I wonder.

"I'm making a maze to confuse the ants when they walk across."

She draws the outside of the shape and begins filling it in with squiggles, while I look at all the other pictures on the driveway and down the sidewalk. A giant line of hopscotch squares takes up lots of the sidewalk space, stretching all the way across the whole width of the driveway.

"Nice hopscotch game," I say.

"Thanks," Cara replies, looking up from her work. "I'm practicing for the hopscotch olympics."

"That's a thing? I wanna do that."

That sounds so much better than all the normal games in the olympics. Those are too overdone. Hopscotch is where it's at. But Cara eyes me up and down, then stands up, crossing her arms.

"It takes years of practice," she states, "and I don't think you're cut out for it."

"Well, when I compete in the olympics, I'm gonna beat you," I argue.

She raises one eyebrow, and I'm jealous. I can't raise only one eyebrow. How come she can do that?

"Care to put your money where your mouth is?" she questions.

I reach into my pocket and feel around before answering, "All I have is four pennies and a toothpick."

Cara just shrugs and mumbles, "Chicken."

"I'm not a chicken!" I shout back. "Like I'd be scared to lose to some six year-old."

"I'm six and sixty-eight seventy-thirds."

"Jokes on you! I don't understand fractions!"

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

The third basket of the day is scored by Buffy, and I clap for her. She gives me a quick smile before retuning her attention to the ball.

"You got this, TJ!" Cyrus encourages.

"Who do you think is gonna win?" I ask him.

"I have no idea."

**Andi's POV**

Amber and I have been watching the basketball game silently. She's been so intrigued by it all, and I've been handling my own work on my phone, so I haven't bothered to make much conversation. Once I finish responding to the last message, I put down my phone with an exhale.

"I've been getting emails all day from this one client," I tell her.

"Oh, they must be really excited to get your art," Amber responds.

"Yeah, it's amazing. People are referring other people to me."

"That's great, Andi," she says with a small smile. "I'm really proud of you."

Although she's smiling, her eyes look dimmer than usual.

"I'm sorry. Am I being braggy?"

"No," she assures me. "You're fine."

Her demeanour says otherwise.

"No, I'm being braggy," I say. "You talk about your work for a bit. How are things at the office?"

"Um...actually..." She looks over at me in the middle of her sentence, but then she finishes. "They're great. Really busy." She smiles and stands up, explaining, "Uh, I'm gonna go get one of those sodas from under the sink."

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

I hop between each numbered square with lightning speed. 1, 2, 3, 4. I'm basically a fighter jet zooming down here. 5, 6, 7, 8. Maybe I should be a pilot when I grow up. I bet I would be great, because I'd get people to their destinations in half the time. Or maybe a military airforce pilot. That'd be cool. 9. I grab the rock, only shaking a little. 9, 8. If I'm shaky in a plane that only makes it look cooler. That'd be a problem if I were steering a boat, but I don't plan on being a sailor. 7, 6, 5, 4. Are all sailors pirates? No, pirates are thieves. Wait, Jared in my class stole my eraser. Is he a pirate? 3, 2. I took an extra vitamin today. Am I a pirate? 1. I chuck down my rock in victory.

"Done!" I shout. "What was my time?"

Cara looks at her stopwatch. "6 seconds."

"That's better than yours," I cheer.

"That's only because you have the legs of a giraffe."

"Hey," I respond, hurt. "My dad says I'll even out as I get older. Either way, I still won."

"Maybe," Cara says, pursing her lips in thought. "But this course is boring. Let's go onto level two."

She bends over and grabs a piece of pink chalk from her box then marches down the sidewalk to draw a new course.

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Walker and I use stacked pillows as our seats while Brayden gets his cushy office chair. He has a duel monitor setup for his computer, and they're both from different decades, making me wonder where he got the second one from. While Brayden pulls up a Word document, Walker finishes reading the outline of the assignment on Brayden's laptop.

"This is easy," Walker says as he closes the laptop. "Just think of any time that you remember as being important to you."

"I dedicate my days to studying the important contributions of people who matter," Brayden responds. "That leaves virtually no time for me to partake in my own adventures. That was going to be my mid-life crises."

"You're thinking too much," I tell him. "You don't need some big adventure. You just have to think of any time that changed who you are."

"Like Shakespeare camp?"

"Sure...or maybe something a bit more meaningful."

Brayden shakes his head. "If the kids at Shakespeare camp heard that, you would be bullied for life."

"There's so much irony in that," Walker mutters.

"What's an important time in _your_ life?" Brayden asks me.

"Um, probably the first time I played ultimate frisbee. Or my first time playing guitar."

"My brother started playing the guitar to attract girls," Brayden says.

"Andreas plays the guitar? I didn't know that."

"He doesn't anymore. He quit after the first girl asked him to play a song, and he couldn't."

"Oh."

"Why did you start playing the guitar?"

"Well, uh, actually, I was struggling with my mental health," I confess. I don't think I've told any of the kids this story before, but all my friends know it by now. It's gotten a lot easier to talk about over time. "I was having a panic attack, and Andi's dad found me, and I said I wanted a guitar to avoid talking about the panic attack thing, but then he started teaching me how to play some chords, and I fell in love with it."

"You get panic attacks?" Brayden says.

"Yeah, but I got help and learned how to manage them, and they're pretty rare now."

Brayden looks down at his keyboard and mumbles, "That's a defining moment. I don't have one of those."

"Sure, you do," Walker counters.

Brayden shakes his head. "Every photo on my laptop is a screenshot of a historical film. No memories of me or anything I did. Go ahead. Look."

Walker lifts the screen of the laptop up, but he pauses, saying, "Oh, I'm locked out. What's your password?"

"The entire first paragraph of Edger Allen Poe's _Tell-Tale Heart_ ," Brayden replies.

Walker just closes the laptop, saying, "I don't need to see the photos. I believe you."


	30. S1 E10.3: One-On-One

**Cyrus's POV**

TJ blocks Buffy's shot, and they start again. Meanwhile, I'm sprawled out on my chair with my legs hanging over the arm rest and my head laying on my arms like a pillow.

"Remember when they'd do this in high school?" Marty recalls.

"I couldn't forget," I respond. "Those games never felt as long."

"Yeah," he agrees, "but those games didn't take twenty minutes for someone to get a basket."

"Curse their improved blocking skills."

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

"Okay, grade five?" Jonah says.

Brayden ponders for a moment before replying, "I got one more haircut than usual."

He wasn't kidding when he said he doesn't do anything.

Jonah sucks in a breath and says, "Okay, how about grade six?"

"I tried playing badminton in the fall."

"That's something! What happened with that?"

"I quit and used the strings in the racket to lace a corset in theatre club," Brayden explains.

"Hey, I was in theatre club for a year in middle school," I bring up.

"Oh, I'm not in theatre club," Brayden clarifies. "They just asked me to help with a costume malfunction on opening night."

"Did that define you as a person?" Jonah asks hopefully.

"It defined Mallory Benner's waistline."

Jonah and I both sigh in sync.

"Well, maybe we can rephrase this question. What's something about you that's a big part of your identity?" Jonah questions.

Now we're getting somewhere. I can see it on Brayden's face. He has something in mind, but he doesn't say it. Instead, he turns his eyes downward.

"Maybe when I went to the Fort Douglas Military Museum for the first time," he mumbles.

"You seemed like you had something else in mind," I respond.

He shakes his head. "No. Nothing else. Uh, thanks, guys. I can write the rest from here. You can go outside again."

"Are you sure?" I check.

Brayden nods. "Yeah."

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

My thumb hovers over the stopwatch, ready to press it and ignite the bomb that is Cara.

"Level twenty-five!" I call out. "Ready?"

"Go!" she shouts back, starting herself, and I struggle to click the stopwatch fast enough.

We're on another block now, having used up all chalk-drawing space on ours. The current course we're on is an epic journey of squares spread wide apart and scattered around like Alphagetti. It no longer looks like a hopscotch course. It's way cooler.

Cara leaps to each numbered square, launching herself over the valleys of the sidewalks cracks in between. One touch to any chalk line, and she'd be out, but she never lets that happen. She's a ninja, doing spins and kicks in the air on her way to get the rock. I think it's cheating, since my glasses fell off when I tried to do that, but she's six, so I let it slide. She gets back to the first square with a proud grin.

"Done!" she squeaks. "Your turn!"

I write down her time on our chalk chart—26 seconds—and we trade off. I throw the rock to the end and prepare my stance. When she shouts for me to start, I jump into the sky, and _crash!_ I fall over, ending my ninja career before it can even begin. When I look up, Cara is looking down on me.

"Game over," she states.

"You beat me, kid," I say in defeat. "You should be in the hopscotch olympics, not me."

"Hey," she responds, putting her hand firm on my shoulder. "Don't give up on your dreams yet. In time, you could be as good as me."

I give a faint smile then reach into my pocket, pulling out my pride with the handful of pennies and the tooth pick that I think just drew blood from poking my palm.

"I guess these are yours," I mumble.

Cara pushes my hand back. "Keep it. Buy something to help you feel better after your loss. I'm gonna keep training."

She steps around me and begins the hopscotch course again.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

TJ gets a basket, and Amber gives a small hoot to cheer, but I can't focus on the game anymore. Amber's literally right beside me, yet I feel her distance like a sea of ice. And I hate it. I can't stand it any longer.

"Amber, are you okay?" I question. "You don't seem like yourself, and not just now. You've been acting strange for the past few days."

Amber hesitates to find the correct response, but she eventually decides against responding at all, instead saying, "Oh, my drink is empty. I'll go recycle it."

She gets up and heads for the deck to go inside, but I'm not letting her get away this time. I hurry after her, following her into the kitchen through the sliding screen door. When I get into the house, she's tossing her can into the recycling bin under the sink, and I go up to her, forcing her to look at me by just being here.

"Amber, what's going on?" I pry.

"I..."

Her eyes look glassy from tears building in them, and she fumbles with her lip anxiously. The longer she takes to respond, the more worried I get, and the more my brain is able to come up with its own answers. _She's dying. She's leaving me. She lost all our money at a casino in Vegas. She committed a crime and is awaiting trial. She's straight. Oh, please don't let her be straight._

"Andi, a few days ago," she starts, her voice wavering, "my company had to make budget cuts, and...I was laid off."

She watches me closely, shame in her eyes, but I don't care about the job. I'm more concerned with the fact that she was keeping this from me.

"What? Amber, why didn't you tell me?"

"I—I was planning to," she stutters, "but I thought maybe I would just get another job first and tell you then, and I'm still working on that, but I just—I didn't want to be a disappointment."

"Amber, you could never—"

"Not to you. To myself. It's just—" She takes a breath before tumbling into a ramble. "Andi, you're so talented. You've always been talented, and people have always loved your art, ever since we were teenagers, and you were accepted into that art high school. And you would've done amazing there, too, if the school hadn't been overtaken by geese the weekend after you started there, forcing you to go to Grant instead. But even at a normal school, you were incredible. You were, like, the best artist there. I'm not like you. I only got my job because my friend referred me to the boss, and even then, I barely got it. And I've had six different jobs in the time we've been married, and I'm just— Sometimes I just feel like you're so much better than me, and as your wife, I feel like I should be just as good, but I'm—"

I cut her off with the taste of her lemon lip gloss lips and the feel of her blonde hair through my hands. She pulls me in, making me stay longer than I initially intended to, and I don't mind at all, but I do have to tell her something, so I back away for a second to talk.

"I love you," I say. "You don't need to try to be better, because you're already perfect."

She smiles, her tears creating rivers down her cheeks.

"Plus," I add, "I preferred Grant anyway. Otherwise we wouldn't have started dating."

Giving in to the pressure, I kiss her again, and her arms come over up over my shoulder, wrapping around my neck to keep me close like yarn knitting together.

But then a throat clears, and we split to see Brayden, unfazed and looking at us from the edge of the kitchen.

"Brayden," I scramble to talk. "Um, we were just—"

"I don't care," he interrupts. "Just make sure to close the cabinet door under the sink."

He goes toward the screen door, and Amber steps back, tapping the cabinet closed, her face burning red.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

Wyatt and Cara both appear on either side of me and Marty in a flash.

"Has Papa won yet?" Wyatt asks me.

"Has Mommy won yet?" Cara counters.

"It's currently a tie," I reply, "but the next shot wins."

At this point, everyone is devoted to the game, watching and waiting for the final shot. Even Jayda has put down her phone to pay attention. Buffy dribbles around TJ, and TJ tries to get the ball, but Buffy blocks him and dribbles up to the net. She does a layup. Everyone holds their breath. But when the ball smacks the rim, the ring of metal comes crashing down onto the cement, leaving Buffy and TJ standing in shock, mouths agape along with the rest of the observers'. The only person not surprised is Marty who quietly gets up out of his chair.

"Welp," he says, "I'm gonna go before Buffy kills me."

"Why would she kill you?" I question.

"Because I was supposed to fix that loose rim a month ago."

He rushes away and into the house, while Buffy and TJ look at each other, not sure what to make of this endless game of basketball they just played.

"Cool, it's a tie," Andreas concludes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The recipe for the pasta salad is pasta, olive oil, salt, pepper, sun-dried tomatoes, and artichokes. Exact measurements are up to your discretion. To make it gluten-free, just use gluten free pasta. Lentil pasta is good. It's my friend's recipe, and it's amazingly delicious. Highly recommend.


	31. S1 E11.1: Neon Potato

**Cyrus's POV**

I think this is probably the first time that it's really hitting me: my little girl isn't a little girl anymore. She's growing up with every step that she comes down the stairs in her shimmery, emerald green mini dress. It has spaghetti straps and a cowl neck to show off her silver, crescent moon necklace, the one that TJ and I gave her for her middle school graduation. This is just a grade nine dance, but seeing her all dressed up makes me emotional. I don't know why. It must be due to the natural association of dressing nice with becoming an adult. She's only fifteen. She can't even drive yet. She's far from an adult, but she's certainly not a kid. I still have some time with her, and I want to hold on to those moments for as long as I can.

"You look beautiful," I say.

"Thanks," Jayda responds. "This dress costed you guys a fortune, so I better."

I glance over at TJ in concern, but he doesn't look any more knowledgeable than me.

"Um, what?" he mutters.

"What?" Jayda responds, smiling innocently.

"Did you check the price?" I ask TJ quietly.

"No, I just typed in my credit card and let her buy it online."

I place my hand on his arm gently, saying, "Let's stop doing that, okay?"

There's a knock on the front door, and I step ahead to answer it, greeting the entrant with a smile. Andreas nods to me, but his eyes are quickly turned in Jayda's direction, and his mouth drops.

"Woah."

Jayda puts a hand on her hip, saying, "Thanks."

"No, I'm talking about the paint on the stairs."

Andreas steps forward and kneels down on the stairway where a giant splotch of orange paint is dried, forcing Jayda to move over in the process. As the boy examines the spot, Jayda rolls her eyes and steps down the rest of the way to the main floor.

A second later, Buffy enters in through the front door and smiles at us.

"Yeah, Wyatt had an art project," TJ explains to Andreas, "and he wanted to finger paint, but he also doesn't wash his hands as much as he should. There's paint everywhere right now."

Summoned by his name, our son comes waltzing into the room, wondering, "Are you talking about me?"

Blue and orange paint covers his sleeves and arms, and there's even some in his blonde curls. He doesn't look like he was painting. He looks like he was wresting two paint cans and lost.

"Wyatt, go wash your hands," I instruct, "before you get paint all over Buffy and Marty's house."

"Fine," the boy sighs.

He trudges around the stairs to the powder room, and Buffy steps out of the way while he passes.

"Can we hurry up?" Jayda asks. "I don't want to be late."

"We're already late," Andreas responds.

"I'm _fashionably_ late. Any later is just rude to my date."

"I guess we should get going," I agree.

Wyatt comes back out of the washroom smearing tinted blue water on his pants.

"Come on, Wyatt," Buffy says. "I'll drop you off at my house. Marty is looking forward to a fun evening with you."

"Cool, does he have paint?" Wyatt asks.

Buffy hesitates a second, looking over the boy's stained clothes, before replying, "No. No, he does not."

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

I enter the living room to find my wife dressed up in bright blue leggings, a red tank top, and white, knee-high socks. Her hair, is tied up in a tree atop her head, pouring out of the elastic in blonde waves, and she's currently stretching out her arms.

"Amber," I say, "I know you've been going through hobbies since you haven't been working, but I think you should skip this one."

She spins around to face me, dropping her arms to her sides.

"You don't even know what I'm doing," she says.

"Well, you look like an '80s workout DVD."

"For a reason," she insists. "Your parents are coming over to have family yoga night."

"Oh, cool..." I sigh. "That's a thing again."

My parents and I used to have family yoga night when I was a teenager, and I thought I'd seen the last of it when I moved out.

"I used to dance, and that kept me fit, but now I mostly just sit around, and I fear I'm gonna turn into a potato if I don't get exercising," Amber explains.

"Potatoes don't come in neon," I respond, gesturing to her outfit, "so I think you're safe."

All of a sudden, the door bursts open, and my parents come in, dressed to work out too, although their attire is more along the lines of hippie parents rather than '80s style. They never knock before they come in, because I gave them a key to my house, which is generally fine, except that sometimes I come out to the kitchen to find one of them taking flour or spices because they were too lazy to go buy more for themselves.

"Heyyyyyy!" they say simultaneously.

"Who's ready for family yoga?" Bex cheers.

"Me!" sparks Hazel's voice.

I turn around to see her entering the living room with her own purple sweatpants, an off-the-shoulder top, and a sweatband around her forehead. She passes an extra sweatband to Amber to wear too, and I'm just confused.

"Since when do we have sweatbands?" I question.

"I found them in the back of the closet," Amber replies.

"Hey, I gave you those for your birthday," Bowie remarks.

"Uh, and I loved them so much that I didn't want to risk them getting dirty," I improvise.

"They're sweatbands. They're supposed to get dirty," Bowie responds.

"Okay, you guys got your yoga mats?" Bex asks. "Andi are you going to join us?"

Everyone looks at me, awaiting an answer. They're gonna be blocking the TV, so it's not like I could watch that anyway, and I don't really wanna do more art today. After a minute, I just sigh.

"Sure."

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

"Walker!"

"What?"

"Come look in the yard!"

I come into the living room toward the window where Jonah is gazing through. Right away, I see the objects of his fascination. A mother duck along with twelve little baby ducklings paddle around in the pond that sits at the edge of the park across the street. Nobody else seems to be noticing them, for there aren't many people walking by, just cars on the street.

"That's so cool," I breathe. "I've never seen a family of ducks like that."

We watch through the blinds for a bit longer until eventually the ducks begin hopping out of the pond, onto the rocks. The mother leaves first, followed by the rest, who have some trouble jumping up to the shore, but they manage to get out—except for one. The lonesome duck continues to leap for the stones, but the water is too low, and the stone rim is too high. It simply can't get out. The mother duck waits for several minutes, quacking at the baby duck, until it gives up and waddles away, taking eleven of her babies with her into a bush where her nest must be. Her child remains struggling to escape the trap, but it can't.

"She's just leaving her trapped duck in the pond?" I say in disbelief.

"It'll find a way out. If it doesn't, it's the circle of life."

Jonah has the tendency to quote movies when he doesn't know what else to say. Sometimes it's funny, like a guessing game about which movie he's quoting, and other times it distracts from actually being able to solve a problem.

Jonah begins to turn around, but I stop him by saying, "Jonah, we have to help it."

"How?"

"Let's get it out somehow."

"Won't the mom, like, attack us if we touch it?"

"Then we need something for it to climb up to get out."

"Like a ramp?" he suggests.

"Exactly! Look around for something we can use."

"We have a bunch of your canvases that would work," he jokes.

"Better yet, we can use the neck of your guitar."

"Alright," Jonah huffs. "I'll look for something else."

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Music pumps through the speakers as we enter the gymnasium of my school. The place has been transformed from a smelly place for jocks to show off into a flickering night club—minus the alcohol of course, although there is an open punch bowl, so who knows. Blue and white lights glow across the dim area, and strands of glittering fabric outline the room. Filling the space are tons on teenagers all grooving to the tune, some chatting along the side. Standing in a cluster, I see some of my friends—well, friends might not be the best word. I guess they still are. I don't talk to them as much anymore since the whole Jeremy thing, but now they've taken my side, since my side has become the popular side. It just took them a little too long. But I guess I can't be picky when people want to talk to me.

"Thanks, Dads. You can go now," I tell them.

"We're not leaving," Papa states. "We're chaperones."

"You guys were serious? I thought you were only doing that to scare me after I didn't take out the garbage."

"No, we're really chaperones," Papa repeats.

"Fine," I groan, "but don't embarrass me, okay?"

"Don't worry," Papa replies. "I'll limit my dance moves to just the worm and the sprinkler."

I raise my eyebrows, pleading him to not to, and he laughs.

"I'm kidding," he says. "Unless..."

I let out a huff of annoyance and order, "Go talk to some adults and pretend you don't know me."

Andreas, who stands beside me, looks at his mother and says, "What she said."

Our parents comply with our requests and leave to disappear into the crowd of people, leaving me alone with Andreas, well, aside from the hundreds of others making us not alone. I begin scouring the crowd visually, while Andreas does the same, but he doesn't seem as focused on it as I am. Rather, his eyes flick back to me repeatedly until he finally speaks what he's thinking.

"So where's your date?"

"He's somewhere here," I reply.

"So he really does exist," he says with a chuckle.

"Of course he exists. He's Eddie Burnet."

"The football player with the birth deformity that gave him a permanent six-pack?"

"That's the one," I confirm with a proud grin. "What about you?"

"Oh, I had to work to get these abs."

"Not that," I snap, and he just laughs. "Who are you here with?"

"Trisha Taylor," he answers.

"That shallow girl who only talks about either her poodle or her daddy's yacht?"

"That's the one."

I look at him, kind of shocked, but also not really. Like, I don't really expect him to actually care about a girl's personality, but I'm surprised that he's willing to put up with that annoying blabbermouth all night.

"There she is," he says, spotting her in the crowd.

He gives me a little salute before heading off to go find her, and I continue my own search for my date. I look around for another minute, not finding him, until I feel a hand take my wrist, and I'm spun around my the very boy I'm looking for. A strand of his slick hair curls over his forehead as he grins charmingly.

"Damn," he says, giving me once-over. "You look good."

"Thanks. You look good, yourself."

He smiles wider but then lets go of my hand, saying, "Hey, I'm just gonna catch up with the guys real quick, and I'll find you to dance after, okay?"

"Uh, okay—"

"Cool, thanks."

He leaves before I can even process it, and I turn to face the dance floor, gazing out at all the people without any idea of what I should do.


	32. S1 E11.2: Neon Potato

**Andi's POV**

The woman in the yoga DVD talks us all through the movements, and I lunge into the warrior one pose with the rest of my family. I swear we're all sweating, but I can't smell it. Actually, I think it's starting to smell more like a greenhouse in here. My wife and daughter only radiate a flowery scent, and I guess my parents must just spend enough time around plants that they've absorbed the smell. Well, it could just be everyone's deodorant.

"Why does this lady in the DVD look familiar?" I wonder.

"That's Jonah's mom," Bowie answers.

"Ahh, kay."

"I actually like this," Amber says as we all dive down into chaturanga. "Andi, why didn't you ever invite me to join your family yoga when we were teenagers?"

"Yes, because I was going to invite my really cool, badass girlfriend to come join our hippie family yoga nights."

I love my family, and I didn't mind yoga, but Amber was also incredibly pretty, and still is, but back then I was far more intimidated by that, so I didn't want her to think I wasn't as cool as her. I know now that she wouldn't have thought that, because she's seen me do way more embarrassing things than family yoga.

"I think it's kinda fun," Hazel responds.

"I agree," Amber supports. "Maybe I'll be a yoga instructor."

"You want to be in a room with a bunch of sweaty strangers?" Hazel questions.

Amber thinks about that for a moment while we all fold into down dog then says, "Never mind."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

High schoolers are an interesting bunch. The vast majority of the dancers are doing uncomfortably repressed sidesteps, attempting to keep their cool image while moving around in heels that nobody should have to wear for more than a single photo. Some of the more wild friend groups are completely letting loose, jumping up and down to the bass. Still, there are a few of those couples who are slow dancing to the fast- tempo of the song. I pass by one in particular where the boy's hand is a little too far down on the girl's backside.

"Raise that hand, buddy," I order, and the boy shoots me a glare but does as told.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I return to where TJ and Cyrus are standing and watching the crowd without much thought.

"When did teenagers get so handsy?" I grumble. "And you guys are just hanging out, not even paying attention."

"Relax," TJ tells me. "It's a high school dance. Nothing's gonna happen."

"Uh, at my first high school dance, there was a fight between two members of the marching band," I counter. "There was a permanent feud between the woodwinds and the drumline after that over who would've won if the chaperones hadn't broken up the fight."

"I didn't realize marching band was so violent," TJ responds.

"They have access to giant chunks of metal that could easily be used as weapons in an instant," Cyrus reasons.

"Fair point."

The two of them continue gazing around mindlessly, while I spot a girl passing by my right, snacking out of a plastic bag.

"Are those peanuts?" I question. "Take those outside."

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

The block of wood is sanded smoothly, creating a comfortable walk up. It fits perfectly in the pond, propping up to create a ramp up out of the water, easily accessible. And yet the duckling keeps on hopping at the rocks.

"This duck is an idiot," I state.

"Come on, duck," Walker encourages. "We're trying to help you."

The duck continues to avoid us, coming near the ramp but never touching it.

"Oh my gosh," I mumble. "You know, if you got stuck in my uncle's pond, you would've been eaten by now, so be thankful that we want to help you, and come on."

Nothing. I turn to look at Walker, meeting my tired look with his, but in the time that I do that, Walker's eyes widen, and I look back around at what's caught his attention, seeing the duck waddling up our homemade ramp. Finally! Walker and I smile at our victory. But then as soon as the duck finds the grass, it shimmies over another rock, falling into the sunken flower garden of the park. The little duckling jumps at the rocks, failing again at getting up, and I sigh heavily.

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

The punch bowl is just punch, but the longer I listen to my date talk, the l more I wish someone had spiked it. When I try to step around to stand beside Trisha, she shakes her head.

"Oh, no. Stand on my other side."

"Why?"

"This is my good side, duh," she responds in her grinding voice.

I put on a wry smile, saying, "I think they're both good sides."

"Cute but false."

Holy shit. Not even my charm works on her. I roll my eyes and walk over to the other side, and she doesn't even pause before switching the conversation for the fourth time.

"Oh my God! Wanna see a picture of my poodle? His name is Coco. We're all pretty sure he's gay, 'cause we saw him humping a photo of Young Leonardo DiCaprio, but you know, no hate. I love all dogs, and honestly, who wouldn't be gay for young Leo."

I mean, I wouldn't, but okay.

She takes out her phone before I can even answer, but I try anyway, saying, "I'm good. I don't need to see your dog."

"Wow, okay," Trisha scoffs. "When you asked me to the dance, I didn't realize you were so self-centred that you wouldn't even care about my beloved pet."

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. Show me the damn dog."

She smiles and unlocks her phone.

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

The wooden board drips onto the mulch of the garden, watering the soil as it sits in place. I wonder if maybe its wetness it throwing off the duck, because it wanders through the flowers everywhere but by the ramp. When Walker goes in to try to guide it out, the duck only walks sideways, steering clear of the exit route.

"Why is he going the opposite of where we want him to go?" Walker complains.

"Maybe it's a teenage duck."

I don't know if it's by coincidence, or maybe it heard my comment and wanted to prove itself to me, but the duckling steps its little webbed feet onto the wood and makes its way all the way up until it tips over the edge, tumbling onto the grass. For a moment it kicks its feet while lying on its side, until it finds its balance and manages to stand again.

Walker and I share a glance of awe before he hurries out of the garden to help me guide the duck toward the bush where the nest is. Once it makes it home, the mother duck quacks, and the baby joins its siblings in a big, cuddly reunion.

"I'm gonna add 'saved a baby duck' to my resume," I say with a smile.

Right after I say that, the family of ducks embarks out away from the nest, waddling into the street. They begin to walk down the centre of the road, just waiting to be flattened by the next car that passes through.

"Well, now I saved it, and I care too much to risk it getting run over," I whine.

"Guess we're going on a walk," Walker respond.


	33. S1 E11.3: Neon Potato

**Amber's POV**

When we finish the workout, Andi and I immediately go to grab water. We are significantly more drained from the exercise than Hazel or Andi's parents are. They act like this is nothing, like all they did was walk to the mailbox.

"My thighs are burning," I pout.

Hazel lets out a laugh. "Weak."

She and Bowie share a high five, and I just ignore them, chugging back my water.

"Amber," Bex says, coming up to me, "how is your makeup still in tact?"

"Oh, everything's water and smudge proof."

"Wow, and it's really good," she adds, examining my face. "Do you ever do bolder makeup looks, like not just the basic day look?"

"She does for me on special occasions," Hazel replies. "She's really good."

"Yeah," Bex agrees. "Hey, if you're looking for a job, I could use some help at Cloud 10. It's been busy since Cece retired."

"Really?" I respond.

I've never actually thought about doing anything related to cosmetology, but this seems like a cool thing to try out, even if it doesn't last long. Plus, Bex seems like she'd be a cool boss. I mean, currently, she still likes me, so as long as I don't do something stupid to ruin that, it'll be good.

"Yeah. I know you probably won't want to do that permanently, but until you find something else, it'd be great to have the help."

"Yeah, sure. I'd love to."

"Hey, guys," Bowie speaks out, pulling everyone's attention his way, "you see that too, right?"

Out the window is a line of ducks making their way down the street, and behind them are Walker and Jonah blocking the backed-up string of cars. Andi and I head for the front door, and our whole family gathers out on the porch to get a better view of the sight. When Jonah and Walker see us, they give us nothing more than smiles and waves.

"What's with the ducks?" Hazel calls out.

"They're travelling," Jonah replies. "We're stopping traffic to make sure they're not run over."

A car honks, startling both Jonah and the ducks which halt and look around for a moment before continuing forward, and our two friends remain trailing close behind the feathery creatures.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Eddie dances with me to the beat of the music until the speakers fall silent, and another song starts up.

"I love this song," I comment.

He just shrugs. "It's okay."

Ignoring his apathy, I keep dancing, and he shuffles back and forth, but his mind is preoccupied. Suddenly, he lights up as his friend comes barging in between us, giving him a bro hug.

"Dude, we're gonna dip," he says.

"Where?" Eddie asks.

"Marvin's."

"Yo, I'm right with you."

I watch my date start walking with his friend before I think to say, "You're leaving?"

"Yeah," Eddie replies carelessly. "This dance is lame."

"So you're just ditching me?"

"Well, you can come with."

Okay, I know I don't have the most self-respect, but I have enough to not let myself go along with a boy who clearly does not give one damn about my feelings.

"No, don't worry about me," I say sarcastically. "Go to Marvin's."

"Cool. See ya."

 _He actually just left me alone at a dance he asked me to. What the hell?_ I look around at everyone bopping to the beat, all of them oblivious to my situation. One of them even bumps into me without apologizing. I guess here's to my first high school dance.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

Of the three of us, Buffy's been the most observant of everything going on with the dance. While Cyrus and I have just been talking and hanging out, doing our part as parents at this school by just showing up, Buffy's actually tried to keep things in order.

"I sense tension over there," she says. "I'm gonna go make sure nothing happens."

She zips into the crowd, leaving Cyrus and me alone by the wall. Teenagers wander by, some laughing, some crying. I don't see my teenager, but I'm sure she's somewhere having fun.

"How come we never went to our school dances until grade ten?" I bring up.

"Because you said you weren't much of a dancer," Cyrus reminds me.

Imagine: me willingly giving up an opportunity to dance with Cyrus. Seems insane now, but I suppose I wasn't as confident with him back then. Back then, we'd only been together for about a year. I didn't want him to know my secret, that I was actually below average at slow dancing. But he never even cared, not about my dancing, and not about his own. He's always be confident in himself. That's one of the reasons why I fell in love with him.

"I feel bad about that," I say.

"I don't. Picnicking at the park instead was a very delightful time."

I smile. "I'm glad. You know I stole that idea from a romantic movie."

"Which movie?"

"The Bee Movie."

Cyrus laughs. "If that's your idea of romance, I'm surprised out relationship lasted longer than a day."

"I think my unique idea of romance is what helped it last," I counter.

He smiles, and I know I'm right. Buffy comes back, ending our talk there and bringing her disappointed face into our bubble.

"Kids are mean," she says.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Some kids were getting angry, so I told them to calm down, and they just told me, 'Sit back in your rocking chair, Grandma.'"

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

"So Coco fell off my Daddy's yacht into the ocean, and I had to get my butler to jump in and save him! It was horrible!"

Jayda was not kidding when she said that all Trisha talked about was her dog and her yacht. I've literally been listening to this girl rant on and on about those two things for the past...God knows how long. I've just been thinking about what kind of car I'm gonna get next year when I get my licence. I'm thinking something cool with lots of class. Or maybe, like, a cheap Volkswagon off Kijiji. I could always just go to the Pick-n-Pull and build a car by collecting all the parts.

"He was cold and shaking, and I dried him off, but then a half an hour later, he fell in again!"

The electronic song switches to a slow pop tune, and I'm so grateful, because maybe I'll be able to get Trisha to stop yapping for a minute.

"Hey, how about we dance?"

"Uh, I'm not done talking," she sasses. "So I had to put my leash on Coco to keep him safe ..."

I attempt to block out her irritating voice by focusing on everything else, but all I see are a bunch of couples who actually took the time to shut up and just slow dance together. Must be nice to have some quiet for a nice three minutes of music.

Through the people, a figure I recognize becomes visible. It's Jayda. She sits dolefully on the bottom row of the bleachers, staring out at all the dancers. Why isn't she with her date? My spirit sinks at the sight of her alone. She shouldn't be alone. Of all the people here, she's the last person who deserves to be lonely on the side during a slow dance. Sure, she's no saint, but she's... I mean, she's Jayda.

"Are you even listening to me?"

I snap out of my stare and turn to Trisha.

"No," I reply bluntly. "And I don't want to, so you can keep talking, but I'm just gonna go."

She looks stunned as I start walking away, but before getting too far, I pause to turn around and say one more thing.

"Also, I don't think your dog 'fell' off that boat."

**Jayda's POV**

I stare down at the floor, counting the lines in each board, when I suddenly see Andreas's sneakers, and then his dress pants, and then his white collared shirt, and then him. Frantically, I wipe my tears away, hoping I'm not smudging any of my makeup, as he takes a seat next to me on the bleachers. He doesn't look at me right away. Instead, he just leans forward, clasping his hands together with his elbows resting on his knees, borderline manspreading, giving me more time to finish drying my eyes before he speaks.

"So why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying," I lie."I just saw someone wearing the ugliest dress, and I felt so bad for her that I got emotional. Shouldn't you be slow dancing with your date?"

"I think my date would rather be slow dancing with her poodle."

That makes me laugh, and it feels like lifting a blanket away that was only smothering my air and weighing down my bones.

"What happened to _your_ date?" Andreas wonders.

"He went to _Marvin's_ ," I answer, feeling my anger bubble into Marvin's name.

"Marvin? Yo, I love that guy."

I shoot him a glare, and he redirects his response.

"But Eddie's a dick. And an idiot."

"Boy are jerks," I state. "I should just stop trying."

"Not all guys are jerks," he opposes. "You just keep going for the ones who are."

"Then who should I go for? Because I don't know at this point," I huff.

Andreas doesn't have an answer. He just looks at me for another moment before turning his eyes ahead at the crowd.

"I don't know," he breathes. "But you'll find him."

I wait another moment, listening to the song finish playing and another slow song start, a choice that convinces me that the DJ must hate me.

"Thanks," I eventually say.

He responds with just a smile, and we both go back to watching the happy couples before us. Part of me feels bad, because he could leave and find someone to dance with aside from poodle girl, and he's probably only staying here because he pities me. Although I know that's most likely it, I'm not going to tell him to go. It's kind of nice to not be alone.

As I'm gazing ahead, I realize that one of the boys is actually coming over to me. He's got a baby blue dress shirt with black jeans and curly hair like teenaged Timothée Chalamet. I recognize him from my math class. His name is Graydon. He's a total geek, but he's still pretty cute.

"Excuse me," he says to me, "but I saw you across the room and was instantly captivated by your beauty. Um, would you like to dance?"

Definitely not how Eddie would've asked me to dance, yet also really sweet. He's not really my type, but he can be my type for one dance.

Then I remember that Andreas is here. I look over to him with a tiny smile, silently asking for his approval for me to leave, and he just nods.

"Go ahead," he says.

Andreas watches as I stand up, taking Graydon's hand, and the blue-shirted boy leads me toward the dance floor. When I look back at Andreas again, his eyes have moved on to other things, so I carry forward, blending in with the rest of the crowd. As I slow to a stop in front of Graydon, I centre my attention on this gentleman who places his hands politely on my waist—my actual waist, not lower—and I smile as we begin to sway to the music.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this episode. Two more left this season. I love you all. Thank you for reading!


	34. S1 E12.1: A New Friend

**TJ's POV**

"Thanks for watching Wyatt for us," I say.

Amber and Andi stand in their doorway, while Cyrus and I wait on their porch, having just dropped off Wyatt to stay with them. I smell something like burnt coconut oil coming from inside, an awful scent if you've ever smelt it. I assume Amber was trying to cook.

"No problem," Amber says. "Where are you two going anyway?"

"We're going to this pub downtown to meet up with a bunch of our friends," Cyrus answers.

"You have other friends?" Amber says in surprise.

"It's this club/group of queer men who all hang out and play billiards together once a month," I explain further. "I found out about them through people at work."

"A bunch of queer guys playing pool?" Amber summarizes. "That's awfully straight of you."

"Hey, can we come?" Andi asks. "Hazel could babysit Wyatt."

"I don't think you'd really like it," Cyrus responds. "It's kind of just for queer men. That's kinda its whole thing."

"We all bond over discrimination and shit," Amber reasons. "What's the difference?"

"There are a lot of things that gay guys bond over that lesbians don't," I say, "like being the gay best friend to a group of low-key homophobic straight girls in high school or...musical theatre."

"First of all, you didn't do either of those things," Amber states, "and second, lesbians kill at musical theatre."

"Whatever," Andi huffs. "You two have your night."

"Thanks," I say.

"Come on," Cyrus tells me. "We've got to get there before Jonah and Walker, or they won't know where to go."

"Jonah and Walker are going too?" Andi whines.

Cyrus and I both start leaving, wanting to avoid another round of interrogation.

"Have a good night," I say with a smile. "Thanks again."

_______________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

A vexatious buzz lures me into the kitchen where I find Cara holding a blender amongst a mess of lemon peels that scatter the counters and floor. Her hair sprouts from a crooked ponytail, strands of the curls looping back around into the elastic while others are pulled out, and her little blue apron has stains galore.

"What is going on?" I question.

"I'm making lemonade," she answers.

She presses the button on the blender again and the machine screams to life before dying a second later.

"You know there are better ways to get the juice out of a lemon."

"I know," she says. "I'm not just juicing the lemons. I'm mixing the ingredients."

"What ingredients?"

"Lemons, sugar, strawberries, butterscotch pudding, and cayenne pepper."

"That sounds disgusting."

"That's because you have no appreciation for good food."

"I do," I counter, "which is why I don't appreciate this."

Cara gives the yellowish-brown mixture one last whirl in the blender before pouring some of it out into a cup and shoving it toward me.

"Drink it," she orders.

"I'd prefer to keep my digestive system in tact."

"Brothers are supposed to be nice to their sisters," she states.

"Good thing you have a spare."

She narrows her eyes and says louder, "Drink it!"

"Alright," I huff.

I take the glass and bring it up to my lips, taking a second to regret it in advance before sticking my tongue into the beverage. But once I've tasted it, I'm surprised and take a real sip, wondering how this is possible. It's sweet and creamy from the butterscotch but sour from the lemon, and somehow that all works together with the zing added by the cayenne pepper.

"Wait, it's actually good."

"Told you," Cara says with a smirk.

"No, this is actually _good_. How much did it cost you to make?"

"I didn't pay anything. We had all the ingredients."

I set the glass down on the counter and look around at the mess of spilt liquids before saying, "I have an idea."

_______________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

The pub has a stairway down into it, and once we enter, the dark wood finishings of practically every surface show clearly. Little round tables with stools are all occupied by people with drinks and food. At the far end, four pool tables are being crowded by a bunch of men cheering on the players. The lights are dim, and the ceiling is low, showing the pipes running overhead and bouncing back the voices of the room.

"Welcome," TJ says to Walker and I. "This is the gang."

"This looks great," Walker comments.

TJ's attention is stolen by a man who comes up and greets both him and Cyrus.

"What's up, guys?"

"Hey," TJ responds. "Walker, Jonah, this is Phil."

Phil extends his hand to each of us, shaking them as he says, "Hi. Nice to meet you guys." He returns his eyes to TJ, saying, "TJ, why don't you get in on the next game?"

"For sure. Get me in," TJ replies.

TJ follows Phil away toward the pool tables. Cyrus watches them go with a little smile but stays here with us.

"So when are you gonna play?" I ask him.

"Oh, I don't play. I tried once but accidentally hit the ball over the edge of the table and broke a picture frame."

"You, Cyrus Kippen," Walker responds, "have a special kind of talent."

"That's what my doctor says," Cyrus agrees.

Entering our circle comes another man, this one with short, black hair and a checkered shirt. Although he notices Walker and I, he only looks at Cyrus when he speaks.

"Hey, I'm new here. How does it work?"

Cyrus, polite as always, answers with a smile, "Just mingle and get to know people."

The man's smile tilts up on one end as he asks, "Can I get to know you?"

Walker and I share a glance, realizing exactly what's going on, but Cyrus is completely clueless.

"I'm Cyrus."

"I'm Kadence."

They shake hands. It's a left-handed shake, and I see Kadence take note of the wedding ring on Cyrus's hand, but he doesn't seem to care.

"I'm not really good at pool," Kadence says, "but it seems like that's kinda the thing here. Any chance you show me some tips?"

"Oh, I'm not the best at pool," Cyrus replies. "Actually, I'm frankly terrible."

I'm thankful to see TJ show up, him having overheard a bit of the chat on his way here. He puts his arm across Cyrus's shoulders, asserting his dominance over Kadence with that one move.

"Hey," TJ says to Cyrus before scanning the stranger in the group. "Who's this?"

"Oh, this is Kadence," Cyrus introduces. "Kadence, this is TJ."

"His husband," TJ adds.

"TJ could give you some tips on playing pool," Cyrus offers.

Kadence looks at TJ before responding, "Cool, cool. Uh, I'll get back to you on that."

He gives Cyrus, Walker and I a nod of farewell then steps away to go talk to some others at a table. When he's gone, TJ looks down at Cyrus who just has the same oblivious smile on his face.

"You know he was flirting with you, right?" TJ says.

"What?" Cyrus reacts. "He was not. He was being friendly."

"No, he was flirting," I confirm.

"He saw my ring," Cyrus reasons. "He was being nice. That's it."

The three of us look at Cyrus with doubtful expressions, which make him get defensive and remove TJ's arm from around him.

"Okay, if you don't believe me, I'll show you," Cyrus states. "I'm gonna go talk to him, and he's just going to be nice."

Cyrus walks away before TJ can say anything else. TJ rubs his hand to his head, grumbling, "Ugh."

"You worried?" I ask.

"Nah," TJ answers then takes another second. "Maybe a little." He lets out a sigh. "Cyrus is always oblivious to people hitting on him."

_______________________________________

**Walker's POV**

I'm holding Jonah's hand as we enter our home. I'd played a few games of pool and talked to a lot of people while we were out, but I didn't drink, since I had to drive. Jonah, on the other hand, is very tipsy, dragging along casually beside me with a dopey smile.

After closing the door, I turn to him and ask, "How you feeling?"

"Docious magacious," he slurs.

"Yeah, you're drunk."

"Yeah, I am," he says with a laugh. "I love you."

It's easy to know when he's intoxicated, because he gets way more emotional than usual. Like, he says things openly without holding them back, things that he wouldn't normally just blurt out randomly.

"I love you too," I respond.

"If I were thirteen, that would freak me out," he rambles.

"Well, you're not thirteen."

"Yeah. Where have the years gone?"

I adjust my grip on his hand and start leading him toward the back of the house to go upstairs to our room, but he gets distracted along the way, stopping by a picture frame hanging on the wall.

"Wow, that's a good picture," he says.

"Yeah, that's the stock photo that came with the frame," I explain.

We haven't gotten around to swapping it out yet, so right now we just have a black and white image of a mom, a dad, and a little boy lying together on the grass. 

"I want a family like that," Jonah gushes.

I glance between him and the photo. "Straight? Yeah, that's not what you got."

"No," Jonah whines. "Like that."

He presses his finger to the face of the little boy, and I go silent. Is he only saying this because he's drunk? Or does he really want... I mean, we've never... He's intoxicated. He's not thinking clearly. I'm not going to partake in this conversation right now, because I don't want to get hurt if tomorrow comes and he's feeling differently.

"Come on," I mutter, pulling him onward. "You should get to sleep."


	35. S1 E12.2: A New Friend

**Walker's POV**

The kitchen is bathed in sunlight streaming in through the window. It gives it a surreal feeling as I enter in and see Jonah getting out a bowl from the cupboard. Sleeping was...interesting, if you can even call it that. It was more like a series of naps, all finishing with the same dream, variations of my conversation with Jonah last night.

Jonah groans as he touches his head, tired and achy.

"How's the hangover?" I ask.

"Why did you let me drink so much?" he says.

"I tried, but you kept saying you were cracking open a cold one with the boys."

"How many cold ones did I crack open?"

"Only three."

"My body really can't handle alcohol," he mumbles.

I chuckle, agreeing, "Yeah."

While he gets the toaster out and plugs it in, I listen to the tugging in my mind that throws the memory of yesterday back over my vision again and again until I finally need to ask about it.

"Hey, so do you remember what you said when we got home last night? About the picture in the living room?"

Jonah shakes his head. "No. Which picture?"

"The one with the stock photo family."

"Oh, yeah," he says with a laugh. "We have to put an actual picture in that."

"Yeah, but, um...you told me you wanted a family like that."

Jonah furrows his brows. "Straight?"

"No, um...you pointed to the kid."

Jonah lets out an uncomfortable laugh. "Oh. Weird."

"Ha ha, yeah. Um, I just wanted to make sure there wasn't, like, any truth to that, anything more you wanted to say."

Jonah shakes his head and puts on a smile. "No, of course not. I love our family. I love us together. Who could need more?"

I guess I was hoping he would say something else, but it's okay that he didn't. I love him, and I just want him to be happy, no matter what we do.

"Yeah, I agree," I mutter.

The silence is strong as we both carry forth with making our breakfasts next to each other yet on our own.

_______________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

Cars are flying by outside our house, but many of them back up and parallel park when they hear the shouting of Cara and me advertising our lemonade. After all, what good-hearted person wouldn't buy the beverage of an adorable seven year-old girl. After making a sale to one couple, a lone woman comes up with a friendly smile.

"Aren't you two cute!" she says in a chipper voice.

"I'm not cute!" Cara retorts. "I'm fierce."

I look back at her, saying, "No, you're cute. Cute is good for business."

"How much for the gourmet lemonade?" the lady wonders.

"One dollar for a cup," I reply.

Is it expensive? Yes. But are people buying it? Still yes. The lady reaches into her purse and pulls out a dollar bill. I take the cash, and Cara hands her the cup. With a wave, she walks away, continuing down the sidewalk, and as she goes, a familiar red car pulls into our driveway right beside our lemonade table. My mom exits the driver's seat and scans our set-up in confusion.

"What are you two doing?" she questions.

"Making money," I reply.

"If you keep starting businesses like this, you'll have to look into getting a permit," she responds. 

"I'm only giving the people what they want."

"Brown lemonade?"

Stealing my attention away from my mother comes another woman on the sidewalk.

"Can't talk, Mom," I tell her. "There's a customer."

"Hi!" Cara says.

When the woman starts speaking, it's in Japanese, and Cara just stares at her blankly. Thankfully, I'm here, and I respond to her, recalling all the words. I complete the whole transaction, taking her money and giving her a cup, letting her leave with a smile and some brown lemonade. My family members turn their focus to me, both of them stunned.

"Since when do you speak Japanese?" Buffy asks.

"You gotta know how to communicate with your market in order to reach them."

_______________________________________

**TJ's POV**

I find Cyrus on the couch in the living room after getting home from work. After sneaking up behind him, I kiss his cheek, making him smile and tilt his chin up to let me kiss his lips too. I circle around the back of the couch and plop down next to my husband, encompassing him in my arm.

"So Marty told me about this new Netflix documentary series on the environment if you want to watch it with me tonight," I recommend.

"That sounds wonderful, but I'm actually going out tonight."

"My husband has a date?" I question.

"No, it's a friend," he responds. "You can come if you want."

"Which friend?"

Cyrus doesn't even hesitate to answer, "Kadence."

"That guy from the pub? Seriously? You're gonna hang out with the guy who was hitting on you?"

"It's cute when you get jealous, but you're wrong about this one," he tells me. "He's really nice, and I promise you he's not trying to do anything romantic. Besides, he's bringing his own friends too."

"That doesn't sound very romantic," I utter. "Sure, what the hell. I'll come."

"Yay."

Although Cyrus is positive there's nothing funny going on, I'm still not going to let my guard down quite yet. Cyrus is hot, and I wouldn't be surprised if this Kadence wasn't ready to let that go yet.

_______________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

The hotel restaurant is fancier than the places TJ and I ever go to on our own. The wall behind the bar has glowing lights shining through bubbling tubes of water, and the seats are bright white, like they're wiped constantly. Everyone here is wearing nice clothing, and there's a glass railing on the far right that overlooks the hotel pool on the other side, which is, of course, only filled by adults. No children. This place is too classy for them.

I spot Kadence at a table alone across the restaurant, and I bring TJ over where we sit down in the two chairs across from his. Kadence gives me a wide smile as I do.

"Hi," I greet him. "Where are your friends?"

"Oh, they cancelled last minute," Kadence explains.

That gives TJ more fuel for his absurd belief that Kadence is into me, for TJ just responds slowly, "Did they?"

TJ shifts his eyes onto me, but I shake my head and focus on Kadence, saying, "That happens sometimes."

"Yeah, so it looks like it will just be you and me," Kadence says, and then he looks at TJ, adding, "and you."

TJ gives him a slow nod, obviously wary of him, but I just think he's thinking way too much into this. There's no way this nice guy wants to make a move on me knowing that I'm married.

"This place is nice," I say. "I've never been to it before."

"Never? I own this hotel," Kadence tells me. "I can get any room for free at any time."

TJ nudges my knee with his, making me look over as he mutters, "Wow. Any time."

I release a breath of exasperation then reach for my menu.

"So what's good?" I ask.

"The steaks are good," Kadence answers, "and same with the lobster."

"Anything vegan?" TJ wonders.

"Yeah, there's a whole section." The he returns his eyes to me, saying, "The margaritas are to die for. You should try one. My treat."

Before I can respond, TJ retorts coldly for me, "No, thanks. I'd like to keep his mind functioning at its fullest tonight."

I give TJ a scolding look, but he just ignores it, picking up his menu to flip through.


	36. S1 E12.3: A New Friend

**Buffy's POV**

All I came here for was a granola bar, but when I enter the room, I get the sight of a kitchen covered in stickiness while my two kids blend their concoction and peel lemons.

"Making more?" I say.

"Business is booming!" Cara cheers. "We're gonna make so much money and become part of the top 1% of society."

"Not really what I want to hear, but okay."

I head toward the pantry, but Cara's scream whips me back around. However, she's not bleeding or hurt like I feared.

"We're out of pudding!" she shouts.

"We can't be!" Brayden yells back. "We have fifty cups of lemonade on backorder."

"See for yourself," Cara says.

Brayden goes over to the counter where a pile of empty pudding cups sits and examines it over.

"Welp," he says, "we're bankrupt."

"We had a good run," Cara says.

With the kitchen in a disaster state, both kids simply turn and exit, not wasting a single second to dwell, nor to clean up.

_______________________________________

**Walker's POV**

When I step into the living room, Jonah is just finishing putting a picture of us into the picture frame on the wall. The stock photo is crumpled a little in his hand while he rehangs the frame, which is fine. I mean, we're just gonna recycle the paper anyway.

"Finally getting this swapped out," Jonah says.

"Awesome," I respond.

He steps back, and I go up to see which photo he's chosen. It's one of us sitting on the steps leading to our front door together, my arm around him and pulling him close. There are four steps, and we're taking up two of them, but I can't help but notice how bare the bottom two look with their paint chipped away from age.

"Jonah?" I speak up and spin around to face him. "You don't want kids, right?"

"No, I'm good," he assures me. "We're good. I have everything I could ever need, and we're 38. It seems kinda late for that anyway. You don't want kids, right?"

"No, no, I'm good too."

Well, what else am I going to say? Kids are a big choice, and we would have to be on the same page. I guess we are. I mean, he's kinda right, I guess. I have everything I need right here with him. That, I know. He's all I need. But I guess I just wonder what life would be like if I had more.

"Cool," Jonah says.

"Cool."

A moment of quiet.

"Wanna watch a movie tonight?" he asks.

"Sure," I reply, trying not to let my feelings run into my tone. "I'll get the popcorn."

_______________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

Shouting from the chefs in the kitchen chimes through the racket of clinking dishes and chatter around us, but it doesn't distract Kadence from finishing his story. I can feel the tension radiating from TJ, but I only hope he won't do anything stupid. I trust him and all, but he can get defensive, specifically when it comes to me.

"Yeah, I did a year of massage therapy in college," Kadence explains with a grin. "People always tell me how I'm really good with my hands."

"So am I," TJ responds, and I almost choke on the water I'm sipping, resulting in me coughing.

Worry hits Kadence's face, and he stands up, saying, "Do you need help? I know the Heimlich."

TJ shuts him down immediately, replying, "I'm a first responder. If he needs help, I got it."

Kadence sits down again, and right as he touches his chair, an announcement over the speakers above sounds. The buzzing voice requests the owner of a specific licence plate to go to the front desk of the hotel, for that vehicle is being towed.

"That's ours," TJ reacts, shocked.

"Did you park illegally?" I question.

"I was barely a foot over the line." With a sigh, he pushes himself onto his feet. "I'll deal with this."

My husband winds through the tables, leaving me with Kadence. I'm honestly a little relieved. TJ's been tense this whole time, and it's refreshing to be able to talk to my new friend without him picking apart every word.

"So," I say, "other than owning hotels and doing massage therapy, what else do you do?"

"I like climbing," he answers.

"Climbing what?"

He lets out a little laugh and answers, "Rocks. I went out to the mountains last weekend. I've got some pictures if you wanna see."

"Sure."

He takes out his phone, and I lean forward, ready to look, but rather than show me the phone across the table, he waves for me to come over, so I get up and go around the table to sit down in the empty seat next to him. Once there, he holds the phone out for me, and I'm confronted by an image of him hanging off the side of a rock with muscles that look like they're ready to burst through his skin.

"Wow. You are very strong, huh?"

He looks proud at that, responding, "I work out every day."

"I can see that."

"I've got major biceps," he goes on. "Wanna feel?"

I'm about to say no, but then he raises his arm for me, and I'd feel bad refusing, so I reach up to touch it.

"Yup," I say, "that's an arm."

That makes him laugh, and when he's done, he looks at me and says, "You're funny, Cyrus. I like guys who are funny."

 _Oh my gosh._ TJ was right. He is hitting on me. Well, this is disappointing. I gave him so many chances. Why couldn't he just not do that?

I'm incredibly relieved when I see TJ walking back toward our table looking annoyed, but not at Kadence, for he didn't witness anything of what just happened. Instead, TJ's mad at the trip he just had to make.

"False alarm," he says. "It was a different car."

"Oh, good," I respond.

As soon as he sits down in his chair again, I give Kadence a glance then get up out of mine. In under a second, I swerve around the table, sink down onto TJ's lap, and kiss him. Although surprised by the action, TJ's more than willing to let me rope my arms over his shoulders and lean into him. After one kiss, I kiss him again, and again, and keep on letting the sparks fly, waiting for Kadence to get the cue.

"Hey, uh..." he starts.

I pull away from TJ and glance back at Kadence, saying, "Sorry. Could you give us a minute?"

I return my lips to my husbands, feeling satisfied when I hear the sound of Kadence's chair scraping backward as he gets up and walks away. I open my eyes to watch him exit, and at my sudden halt of effort, TJ backs his head away and looks the same direction as I am, grinning at the sight. With Kadence gone, I return back to my own chair beside TJ, and his eyes look at me, showing how eager he is to say it, and then he does.

"I was right?"

"Don't get all cocky," I tell him.

"I won't," he assures me, although his smile is proud. "I'm just glad you figured it out."

"He was really nice," I whine. "It's a shame."

"He wasn't that nice," TJ responds, although I know he's biased.

Then we both look ahead at the empty plates that remain on the table from our earlier meal.

"He left his bill for us to pay," TJ realizes.

"Yup."

_______________________________________

**Marty's POV**

"Brayden," I say as I walk up to his bedroom doorway, "there are twenty-three messages on the answering machine all asking you about some gourmet lemonade thing. Do you know what that's about?"

He swivels to face me in his office chair then stands up tall, letting out a sigh.

"It's supply and demand," he states, not at all answering my question. "Dad, it looks like you'll have to buy more butterscotch pudding. I have to give the people what they want."

Suddenly, Cara shows up beside me and peeks into the room, saying, "I have a better idea. I'm thinking kombucha."

Brayden gasps and agrees, "I like it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more episode in season 1! Let me know in the comments what you want to have happen in season 2. Also, if you are liking this story series, please tell your friends and others in the fandom, because I would really love to have more people reading and enjoying this. Maybe one day I could do something for Disney, which would be awesome. I don't know. It's just a dream, but I'd really appreciate it if you guys would help me out. Thanks for reading! I love you guys.


	37. S1 E13.1: Father's Day

**TJ's POV**

The first thing I see when I wake up is the glow of white sun stripes shining through the blinds onto the bed covers, directly followed by my husband's soft smile beside me. His hair is a mess from his pillow, dark curls sticking out in random directions, and he has his glasses on, something I only ever get to see in the morning before he puts in his contacts, and at night when he takes them out. His vision is worse than mine, so I'm still able to make out all the important shapes of him, like his eyes and his lips, without my own glasses.

"Happy Father's Day," he whispers.

"Happy Father's Day to you too."

I give him a smile before rolling out of bed and standing up to open the blinds fully, letting in a wave of light that shocks my body awake as I grab my glasses. Cyrus sits up in bed, watching me while I find my pyjamas in the dresser and slide them on.

"Any guesses on what the kids are doing for us today?" Cyrus wonders.

"Well, last year's zucchini origami from Wyatt will be hard to top," I reply with a chuckle.

"I hope he does something different than that, because I need that zucchini for a cupcake recipe."

A knock on the door pulls our eyes toward it and raises our hopes, shown through our brightening smiles.

"Yes?" I say.

The door swings open just enough for Jayda to stick her head in and say, "Dads, can you get the laundry started? I'm going to a party later, and I need my dress washed by then."

The door closes, slapping our grins down, and I look back at Cyrus, disappointed.

"Well, Jayda's never been good with remembering the date," Cyrus reasons, although I can see that he's a little glum about it, "but I'm sure she'll figure it out."

"I don't know," I mutter. "She thought it was Saturday until Thursday last week."

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

Wyatt's RC swerves on the hardwood, scraping rubber marks into the floor. TJ and I step down the stairs and take a second to watch the toy car zoom back toward the kitchen where Wyatt is hidden out of sight, behind wall at the back of the staircase.

"Great," I mumble. "The RC is back."

When we enter the kitchen, Wyatt is at the table making the car do doughnuts on the floor, while Jayda is sitting across from him, doing something on her phone.

"Good morning," I greet.

"Morning," they both mutter.

"Nice day, huh?" TJ says.

Jayda glances out the window then back to her phone, responding, "It was sunnier earlier."

TJ's eyes catch mine as we both share the same dreary thought: they don't remember, or if they do, they don't care. I suppose it's selfish of me to expect anything special, but I'm just not used to this. Last year they remembered, because Amber and Andi made sure they did. They must've stepped back this year since the kids are now older, but they might've stopped helping them a bit too early. Of course, I can't say anything about it. Getting anything on Father's Day is a privilege, so me reminding them would be like going up to someone and telling them to wish you a happy birthday. It's just a little needy, and yes, I've been called needy, but I try not to be that way with my kids.

Jayda opens her mouth to speak again, and I feel myself spark up, thinking it's going to be for me, but then she immediately looks to Wyatt instead and says, "Hey, Wyatt, if you want my help, you need to come upstairs now, or you're not getting it."

Wyatt peels his eyes up from his RC, and the car stops spinning in and instant. Then both kids get up, and Wyatt's RC sputters to life again, driving down the hallway.

"What are you helping him with?" I question.

"Some game he's making," Jayda replies. "After that, I'm going to Angel's. Is that okay?"

Going to her friend's house on Father's Day.

"I guess," I answer.

"Cool, thanks."

With our kids now gone upstairs, I spin back to face TJ, no longer worried about hiding my disappointment.

"Did they really forget Father's Day?" I sigh. "I don't expect anything big, but shouldn't we at least get paper ties from Wyatt or something?"

"When I was little, I forgot Father's day, so I made a macaroni picture frame last minute."

"See, that's considerate and cute."

"Yeah. We had macaroni for dinner that night, though."

"Oh."

"Well, maybe they'll remember," TJ says. "It's only the morning."

"Yeah," I sigh. "At least they're spending some sibling time together. That's a nice surprise."

**Jayda's POV**

As soon as I seal the door to my bedroom, I spin around to Wyatt who's staring up at the string of round, white lantern lights that dangle over the ceiling in two rows.

"Wyatt," I say, and he brings his attention down to me. "Okay, so if they ask where I am, what do you say?"

"Angel's," Wyatt answers.

"Perfect. You stay here and keep them occupied... Wyatt!"

He pulls his eyes away from where they'd wandered over to the polaroids on my white wall by the closet.

"Make sure they're not wondering about me until it's time to go," I continue, "at which point, do you know how you're going to get them there?"

"I have a plan," he responds.

"What is it?"

"Okay, I'm gonna make a plan, but don't worry. I've got it under control."

Before I can press him any further, there comes a banging on my window, and I look above my bed to see Andreas sitting on the tree branch on the other side of the glass. He said he was going to meet me here, but this wasn't what I was expecting. I kneel on my bed to reach the lock and slide up the window, and he rests his elbows on the window sill but remains perched on the tree.

"You climbed the tree?" I say in surprise.

"That's so cool!" Wyatt says contrasting my judgement with his amazement. "And you didn't even fall!"

"This isn't the first girl's house I've snuck into," Andreas explains with a grin, which makes me rolls my eyes.

"Where's Brayden?" I ask.

"On the ground," Andreas answers. "He didn't want a branch to snag his sweater vest."

"Cool, well, I'll take the front door and meet you outside."

I start to turn around when Andreas tilts his head and says, "Come on. I didn't climb this tree for nothing."

He extends his hand, but I don't take it, still debating whether I want to risk dirtying my pale jean shorts for this.

"I wanna take the tree!" Wyatt exclaims.

"You're staying here," I remind him, and he frowns.

"Why do you always get the fun jobs?"

I shake my head at my brother before returning my eyes to Andreas whose hand remains out for me, and he has this stupid grin on his face, the one that insists I can trust him even when there is no valid reason to.

"Fine," I huff.

I grab a pair of shoes from my closet and slip them on before accepting Andreas's hand, letting him steady me as I climb out of my bedroom window. He lets me go once I've gotten hold of the branch, but while he swings himself down and leaps onto the grass of the front yard, I take a bit longer, carefully placing my feet on the branches. Both Brayden and Andreas stare up at me from the ground as I get to the bottom branch where I'll now have to jump.

"You gonna come down?" Andreas calls up after a moment.

I guess I have to. Okay, deep breath. One, two, three! I force myself off the branch, landing sharply with both feet on the ground, and when I start to wobble, both boys grab an arm to pull me back upright.

"You good?" Andreas asks.

"Yeah. Fine."

"I heard your comment about my sweater vest," Brayden tells his brother. "For your information, it's vintage, and snagging it would decrease its value."

"Whatever," Andreas responds. "Let's go."

We all start walking toward the sidewalk, but I pause when I have a thought.

"Should we have included Cara in this?"

"Oh, she's in on it," Andreas replies.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Every customer walking through here is wearing something camo, whether than be a hat, a vest, or just some boots. That appears to be a staple for people who shop at outdoor gear stores, which makes me feel like a fish in a chicken pen. Cara clearly doesn't feel that way. She leads Jonah and I through the rows of fishing rods, lawnmowers, bicycles, and backpacks, acting like she knows where she's going even though she doesn't.

"This place reminds me of when my dad used to force me to come on fishing trips, thinking that if I caught one, I'd stop liking boys," I comment.

"I used to give my uncle gift cards for this place every Christmas," Jonah reminisces, "and then he'd bring the meat to New Year's dinner."

"That's a pretty self-serving gift."

"Yeah. My mom used to get me dish detergent for my birthdays."

"There it is!" Cara squeaks.

We look ahead at the pile of firewood. At some point in our walk, we ended up in an outdoor part of the store, though I didn't even notice. Cara's eyes are wide as she gazes at the mountain of logs.

"Let's buy all of it and start a huge fire!" she squeals. "Let's burn down the Whitehouse!"

Jonah crouches down next to her, responding, "Love the enthusiasm, but big dreams cost big money."

"I wanna be rich when I grow up so that I can light everything on fire!" she cheers.

Jonah just smiles and says, "If you can dream it, you can do it."

"Jonah," I interrupt, "we probably shouldn't be encouraging arson."

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

"Buffy," I say as I descend the stairs, "where are all our kids?"

The house is strangely quiet, and it's a little concerning. Usually at least one of the three is making noise with whatever games they play to keep themselves entertained.

Buffy closes her magazine and tosses it on the coffee table as she stands up from her chair and comes over to me.

"Oh, they're all out," she answers.

"Out where?"

"Uh, birthday parties."

"Three birthdays on Father's Day?"

"I guess September is an active month for couples."

"When will they be home?" I ask.

"I'm not sure."

"Oh. Okay."

Buffy's usually the one who makes sure the kids remember important days. It's weird to me that she's letting them all out of this one. It's Father's Day. I made sure they remembered Mother's Day for her.

"Well, do you want to do anything today?" I ask her.

At least my wife is available for me.

"Sure," she responds. "What do you want to do?"

"We could go out for lunch?" I suggest. "We haven't done that in a while."

"It's a date," Buffy says.

She comes up and folds her arms over my neck to kiss me gently, a lovely surprise for the morning. When she backs up, she has a smile.

"Happy Father's Day." Then she grins as she asks, "Until lunch, anything else you want to do?"

"What are you thinking?" I wonder, letting a smile of my own creep up.

"We could do the thing that made you a father," she replies.

"Well, it's a little soon for a 4th of July party, but we do have lots of vodka—"

"No," she stops me.

She raises her eyebrows, pressing her eyes into mine, and I suddenly realize what she means.

I don't need any time before answering, "Yes," and she giggles as I take her hand and lead her upstairs.


	38. S1 E13.2: Father's Day

**Andreas's POV**

While Brayden, Jayda, and I are walking through the grocery store, the promotions in the health and hygiene area catch Brayden's attention. He stops at one isle and picks up a bottle of shampoo for thinning hair to read it, causing Jayda and I to have to stop along with him.

"It's on sale," Brayden says. "Should I stock up now? My teachers all say I have an old mind. Do you think I'll get old hair sooner?"

"You're twelve," I respond.

"You didn't answer the question, but I suppose that's not surprising, considering your test scores."

Just for that, I reach over to the shelf on my left and grab a small box which I then shove into my brother's hand.

"You should probably get some of this instead," I say.

Brayden reads the box. "Cream for reducing inflammation in bruises."

At that, Jayda grabs the box from Brayden and puts it back on the shelf, saying, "Okay, stop with the weird threats, and come on."

Brayden and I end our disagreement and follow Jayda toward the isle with the marshmallows. I can't see it, but somehow she has the vision of a hawk and spots her goal from the other end of the isle.

"Good. There's one bag left," she says.

I stay behind her as she power-walks ahead, but I get sucked in by the sight of a bag of multi-coloured mini marshmallows on the way.

"Hey," I say, picking one of the bags up. "We could get rainbow marshmallows instead, 'cause, you know, gay."

"Those are tiny," Jayda responds. "Plus, my papa prefers vegan ones, and he's one of the two gays. We'll get the vegan ones after, but right now we need regular-sized normal marshmallows."

"Fair."

When she spins back around to grab the marshmallows, she freezes, and I realize why when I see that the last bag is gone from the shelf.

She's shocked. "Who—?"

Then she sees a lady a little bit farther down the isle, and she's holding the bag that Jayda was about to take.

"Damn," I mumble. "We can go somewhere else."

"Screw that," Jayda denies. "I did not walk all the way here for nothing."

"You didn't," I state. "We still have to get graham crackers and chocolate and—and you're not listening," I breathe. "Cool."

Jayda struts up to the woman with the marshmallows and taps her on the shoulder. The woman's blonde bob swings as she turns around to see Jayda.

"Excuse me," Jayda says, "but I was about to take those marshmallows."

The lady just gives Jayda a smirk, responding, "Then why are they in my basket?"

_Oh, shit._

Jayda's eyes narrow, and I can feel her rage boiling as she snaps, "Oh, you wanna play that game, Karen?"

Brayden suddenly appears beside me, asking, "Should I call a lawyer?"

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

TJ and I are in the kitchen about to make our lunch when Wyatt comes out of the door from the basement and begins heading toward the other staircase.

"He has to remember," I whisper to TJ.

"We could ask him."

"No. That makes it seem like we expect something from him."

"We do," TJ states.

"I know, but—"

"Hey, Wyatt!" TJ calls out, cutting me off.

He curves around the wall to go into the hall where Wyatt stops and spins back to him, and I hurry after TJ, giving up my not-caring facade.

"Do you know what day it is?" TJ asks.

"National Extraterrestrial Abductions Day?" Wyatt guesses.

I frown. "Not quite."

"Too bad," the boy mumbles. "I'm waiting for that day, because I think aliens will be bring Snappy back."

He goes upstairs, leaving me even more down than before, but now lots of that is guilt.

"Now I just feel bad," TJ says.

"Maybe we should've told him that Snappy died," I say. "I know he was only five, but kids can handle death."

"Hey, we didn't tell him that aliens abducted his fish," TJ reasons. "He came up with that."

"Yeah... Sometimes I try to imagine what it must be like inside his head."

"Probably like a funhouse."

All of a sudden, Wyatt comes running back down the stairs and into the kitchen. A second later, he comes out holding four cans of black beans.

"Forgot these," he says.

_I'm— What?_

"Uh, do you need a can opener?" TJ asks him.

Wyatt just shakes his head and starts up the stairs. "No, I'm good."

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

After buying the firewood, we stopped to eat lunch, and now we're on our third stop. Cara yanks the door to the ice cream shop open in one tug, and Walker and I step in after her.

"This is the important last stop?" Walker says.

"Are you questioning my authority?" the little girl retorts.

"Did you hear that line on a TV show or something?" Walker says.

"No. My mom yells it at the squirrels when they won't leave the backyard," she explains.

"But squirrels are kinda cute," I say.

Cara just shakes her head. "You don't know their dark side."

Neither Walker nor I have even said yes to buying Cara ice cream, but she goes up to the cashier anyway and orders herself a chocolate cone.

"Guess I'm paying for that," Walker sighs, and he goes up to the counter alongside Cara.

After that, my husband and niece come back over to me to wait for the order to be ready. In front of us in line, a mom, dad, and little boy around Cara's age all receive their ice cream and begin to walk to a table. Right as Cara takes her own cone from the employee, a splat sounds out, and everyone turns to see the little boy weeping at his ice cream cone that he's just dropped on the floor.

Without even a second of hesitation, Cara goes up to the boy and holds out her own ice cream cone, saying, "Here. Have mine."

Not only am I amazed by the gesture, but the boy's family is too. It's such a selfless act for a seven year-old to do. The boy accepts the ice cream with a smile, and Cara returns to Walker and I, who are both still gawking from the event.

"I need another ice cream cone," Cara says.

Walker takes a moment to get past his awe before answering, "Yeah, of course," and going back up to the counter with the girl.

While they're away, the little boy's dad approaches me, smiling as he says, "You raised a good kid there."

"Oh, uh..."

I'm taken by surprise. I've never had any of my friends' kids be mistaken for my own. My first instinct is to clear up the misunderstanding and explain that Cara's not my daughter, but his eyes are so kind that I end up rerouting my path, not wanting to ruin his compliment. Honestly, what's the harm in just letting him be nice?

"Thanks."

He gives me a nod and says, "Happy Father's Day," before going to join his family at a table.

My eyes wander over to Walker and Cara who wait by the counter. She's not my kid. Obviously, that's not an issue, but what's really sticking with me isn't her being mistaken for mine. It's someone thinking I have a kid at all. It just feels really weird, but not wrong. Like maybe...I don't know. Maybe it might not be such a weird thing.

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

The manager's office is dim, lit by only a lamp since the light overhead is burnt out. A desk sits smack in the centre of the space, which has the angry, balding manager on one end, and the couldn't-care-less Jayda at the other. Brayden is out in the store still, trying to get everything on our list so that we don't end up being late, while I'm leaning against the corner wall of the office with my arms crossed, listening in on the manager's conversation with Jayda.

"Your conduct in our store was completely inappropriate and won't be tolerated."

"Well, I didn't know Karen was gonna call the manager on me," Jayda retorts.

Then the manager's eyes flick up to me, snapping, "You think this is funny?"

I snuff out my grin and reply, "No, sir."

He returns his attention to Jayda and carries on. "Look, you verbally harassed a woman simply because you wanted the marshmallows that she had already taken. Now, because you're a teenager, I'll let you go with a warning, but if anything happens like this again, you're banned from the store."

"Whatever," Jayda mutters.

The manager's face is red from anger as he throws his pointer finger at the door, commanding, "Go!"

Jayda stands up and saunters toward the door, taking her sweet time for no reason other than to irk the manager even more. After I've exited the office, I need to wait a few more seconds with the door open for her to get through it, but once she has, I let it fall closed and my grin comes back to my face as I look at her.

"What?" she questions.

"Nice job," I answer with a laugh. "Although I would appreciate it if next time we went somewhere, you didn't almost get us banned."

She rolls her eyes, saying, "This isn't my first rodeo, or whatever the saying is."

She starts walking back into the isles of the grocery store, but I'm still hung up on that last sentence.

"Wait, what places have you been almost banned from?" I ask.

"Not almost," she corrects me. "I am banned from the department store in Edgemont and the post office in Greenhurst."

"Post office? What were you trying to mail?"

"Not me. My friends."

"Wow. I don't know the story, but anything involving the United States postal service that got you banned seems risky."

"Chill," she says. "It's fine."

"I'm chill with everyone except you."

Jayda stops walking and turns to me, offended, to say, "So I'm stressful?"

"Kinda, yeah," I admit.

Jayda lets out a huff and whines, "Rude!"

"All I know is that I've never felt stress like I do when I'm around you."

I don't know what it is specifically about her—maybe just everything—but she makes me need to think more than usual, something I'm not used to, so yeah, I'd say she's kinda stressful. I'm not saying it's bad stress, or good stress. Just stress. Just more effort I have to put into functioning.

All of a sudden, Brayden breaks up our arguement as he steps in between us, and we pull our eyes away from each other and onto him.

"You know what stresses me out?" he says. "When you two go to grocery store jail, leaving me to have to do all the shopping. Here." He shoves the basket of items into my hands. "Pay."


	39. S1 E13.3: Father's Day

**TJ's POV**

Cyrus and I are on the couch together in the living room when Wyatt comes thumping down the stairs, and Cyrus pauses our show, knowing something's going to happen that will require our attention.

"Dads, I have a problem, he says, stepping around the couch in front of us.

"What is it?" Cyrus asks.

"There's a stain on my shirt."

"Then put it in the wash," Cyrus says.

Wyatt shakes his head. "That won't work. It's a bad stain. We need that special stain remover that Auntie Amber and Auntie Andi have."

I examine my son's T-shirt for a second before saying, "Wyatt, I don't even see a stain."

"It's invisible ink," he says without missing a beat.

"Then what's the problem if you can't even see it?" I question.

"Because when I go bowling, I'll be glowing like a firefly's poop!"

Cyrus shakes his head. "Wyatt, that's not—"

"Help a man out here!" He yells.

He begins marching toward the front door to put his shoes on, and Cyrus looks at me then sighs before getting up to follow the boy.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

I pull open the door when I hear the knock, and Jayda, Andreas, and Brayden are all standing on the porch with their bag of food for the evening.

"Where were you guys?" I question. "Cara, Jonah, and Walker got here, like, half an hour ago."

Jayda steps past me inside, answering, "There was a minor delay."

Andreas comes in after her, then Brayden last, who adds, "Jayda almost got us banned from the supermarket."

The kids walk through the kitchen to the door to the yard before I can try to piece together their response in my head.

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

Buffy drives through the neighbourhood while I sit in the passenger seat, getting more and more confused as the drive persists.

"Okay, I know I'm usually the one who gets dinner," I say, "but when I said let's go to the restaurant at the end of the block, I thought it seemed pretty self-explanatory as to where it was."

"We're going somewhere better," Buffy responds.

Better than all-you-can-eat wings for $6.99? I'm skeptical. When we take the next turn, Andi and Amber's house comes into view, and I look over at Buffy in concern.

"Amber and Andi's cooking is better? You sure you're okay to be driving?"

She puts the car into park against the curb and rolls her eyes, saying, "Just come on."

She climbs out of the car, and I do the same, although I have no idea what's happening. But once I step onto the grass, I notice TJ and Cyrus coming down the sidewalk, being pulled by Wyatt.

"Do you guys know what's going on?" I ask them.

When Cyrus and TJ attempt to slow down near me, Wyatt adjust his grip on both their hands and pulls harder.

"Keep going," he says.

The three Kippens carry on toward the gate to Amber and Andi's backyard, and Buffy gives me a nudge to follow. What I find when I step through the gate is my entire family, including all of my kids, sitting around a campfire with the ingredients for s'mores and hot dogs on a table, ready to cook.

"Happy Father's Day!" they all cheer.

Cyrus is by far the most outwardly surprised, his jaw almost coming unhinged.

"You guys did this?" he says to the kids.

Jayda nods. "We know how much you like camping, but we're also not old enough to get an actual campsite on our own, so we did something in the middle." Then she grabs a bag of tiny, multi-coloured puffs from the grass by her lawn chair, saying, "We also have marshmallows. They're tiny and rainbow 'cause the store was out of big ones..."

Andreas takes over, finishing by saying, "and 'cause gay."

"We also have regular-sized vegan ones," Jayda goes on.

"It's awesome," TJ responds, smiling wide.

Suddenly, my little girl climbs down off her chair that was situated between Hazel and Jonah, and she runs up to me, making me scared a little in the process, for she doesn't pay attention to the fire pit.

"I started the fire!" she squeals with a huge grin.

I look up at Amber, Andi, Walker, and Jonah, who all just put on their most innocent smiles.

"Well," I say to Cara, "it's a nice-looking fire."

"Happy Father's Day, Daddy."

She throws her arms around my waist, engulfing me in her hug. Soon, Andreas gets up out of his chair and comes up to copy Cara.

"Happy Father's Day," he says.

I bring my arm around my teenager too, and while two of my kids are with me, my third lets out a sigh and stands up to come over.

"Well, now I'm gonna look like the bad kid if I don't join." Brayden steps into the group hug, repeating what his two siblings said: "Happy Father's Day."

As they begin to let me go, Wyatt releases a grunt and stomps up to his dads, saying, "We can do better than them!"

Cyrus and TJ chuckle as Wyatt ropes them into a tight hug, and Jayda goes over to join too.

"You did it second," Cara points out.

"Well, we have two dads, so everything we do for them is automatically twice as good," Wyatt argues.

Amber's single clap breaks the glares as she says, "Cool, well, let's roast stuff before the fire dies out."

Hazel starts passing the roasting sticks around for everyone to take as they all get settled back in their chairs. Campfire smoke rises into the air as everyone begins to talk and laugh together the way our family always does. Brayden is teaching Walker and Hazel about some ancient philosopher's perspective on fire and the way it relates to the universe. To my right, Andreas is attempting to toss the mini marshmallows into his mouth while Jayda films it, laughing. Wyatt keeps hold of his dads by laying across both of their laps to prove his superiority over Cara who has already moved on. She sits on my lap, leaning toward the fire to roast a marshmallow, and I hold her tight, trying to keep her from falling in. After a while, I trade off with my wife who watches her, and I take in the beauty of this moment, the perfection of our giant family all fitting in Amber and Andi's tiny backyard. This is what Father's Day is about. It's about being able to spend time with people who love you and look up to you. This is perfection, and I get it every day.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

After spending the evening with the noise of all our friends, being back home seems eerily calm, like a frosted winter morning after a blizzard. Part of me misses the chaos and the smiles, but when I lie down in bed next to Jonah, the calm becomes okay. His hair is wet from the shower and clings to his forehead, and the lamp light reflects in his green eyes. Him being around me warms me instantaneously like blowing a cloud of breath into winter air.

"Today was fun, huh?" I say.

"Yeah," Jonah agrees.

He has a faint smile on his face, but I can tell that he's deep in thought, probably reminiscing about the events of the day like I am.

"All the kids put so much effort into giving their dads a good Father's Day," I say.

"Yeah. They really are special."

His eyes stare upward but he's still wrapped in his thoughts, so I don't try to talk any further. Instead, I decide to let him think about whatever he's thinking about, and he'll talk to me if he wants to.

I shift close to him and press a gentle kiss to his head then whisper, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

With a click, my fingers turn the knob on the bedside lamp, flicking it off, and letting the blackness flood the room. I roll over to lie on my side and try to fall asleep until suddenly, Jonah breaks the quiet.

"Walker?"

"Yeah?"

"I wanna have a baby."

Silence pours over everything, stopping not only my own breathing and heartbeat, but also every sound of the earth, from the wind outside to the easy blow of the vents. That silence swallows the space, letting us wade in its waters until I finally open my mouth and respond.

"Let's do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was the season finale of The Good Hair Family. New episodes will be up again starting on Friday, June 19, 2020. I really love and appreciate you all. i have such big plans for season 2, and I really hope you guys will stay with me and take the ride. Again, if you are liking this, please let your friends know and others in the fandom. I would really appreciate any support I can get. Thank you so much for reading! Have a lovely week!


	40. S2 E1.1: Cycle of Life

**Cyrus's POV**

I sit with my back to the bay window at the kitchen table, my husband on the left, and my daughter on the right with her hand blocking the sun from hitting her phone as she reads something and laughs. With none of us talking, the chickadee call from outside wafts in, competing with the chewing of our toast. While we eat, TJ and I both keep bringing our eyes back to Jayda every time she giggles at her screen.

"Jayda, why don't you put down your phone and interact with us for the meal?" I ask.

"My phone is my life," she defends. "It keeps me in touch with the world. Without it, I might as well be playing piano in an old folks' home."

"I feel attacked," TJ mutters.

He plays piano in old folks' homes sometimes to entertain them, but that just makes him an caring citizen.

"Well, at least talk to us," I say to her. "What's so interesting on that phone that you can't put it down?"

"Fine. You want to know? Tay tried to do her mom's botox herself to save money, and the photos are horrendous."

She has a grin on her face as she begins to turn the phone in our direction to show us, but I push her hand back toward her, shaking my head.

"I changed my mind. Don't tell us," I mumble.

I scoop up another spoonful of my cereal and bring it up to my lips, but it drips off right back into my bowl the second Wyatt stomps into the kitchen and drops something brown, fuzzy, and wrapped in a blanket down in the centre of the table. It makes a thud, causing our chairs to rattle, and the boy stares down sadly at the bundled blanket with tuff of fluff peering through its cracks.

"Please tell me that's another blanket under there," I say.

"No!" my son cries. "Monsoon died!"

"Who's Monsoon?" TJ questions, eyeing the watermelon-sized lump in the centre of us all.

"He's the bunny that liked to sleep under my bed," Wyatt explains, his forehead still wrinkled in despair. "He didn't wake up yesterday. I thought he was just old and lazy, but then I realized he wasn't breathing."

Most parents would be most shocked by the fact that their son had an animal living in their room, but this is _my_ son, so I'm more surprised by something else.

"You named your rabbit Monsoon?" I say.

"Can you get that thing away from my food?" Jayda sneers. "It's grossing me out."

Wyatt turns his cold eyes to his sister, replying, "When your time comes, I'll remember how you treated Monsoon and be sure to give you the same treatment."

"I'm sorry about your rabbit," I say to Wyatt. "The most difficult normalcy of life is that everything has an end."

Wyatt nods sombrely, looking down at his covered bunny corpse.

"I want to sit shiva," he says after a moment.

"People don't usually sit shiva for pets," I respond.

"Then I at least want to have a memorial, and we'll pray and bury him."

"We don't have anywhere to bury him," TJ brings up. "I don't think we're allowed to do it in the yard."

I furrow my brows and ask, "Is there a law for that?"

TJ just shrugs.

"Then we'll compost him," Wyatt says.

"I'm sure Monsoon would like that," I say. "We can do it today."

"Thank you."

Wyatt sniffles a couple times then spins around and heads back toward the stairs.

TJ sits up, realizing, "Oh, he's leaving the—"

He sighs and looks at the blanketed bunny body again.

But Jayda's passed her tipping point, getting up and taking her cereal with her, saying, "I'm gonna take my food somewhere else before I vomit."

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

Glue drips down my hands and over my arms as I lay another piece of soaked newspaper over the wires. It's going to become a lion's face eventually, which I'll then decorate with lots of colours and strings and maybe feathers or beads—wherever my vision takes me.

"Hey, Andi," Amber says, leaning into my studio. "Have you seen my black dress?"

"Which one?"

"My favorite one. A-line. Lace neckline."

I know exactly which one she's talking about, and I know where it is, but I'm not going to tell her that.

Last month, there was a bit of an incident. I was working on an art piece for an office building. It was a tapestry, and I was using a whole bunch of old clothes, blankets, curtains—anything fabric that I could tear up and sew into an abstract seascape for the tapestry. I had just finished sewing a blue bed sheet into waves, and I was about to create the black boarder. I lifted the scissors to cut the black dress.

But then I realized which dress it was. Relieved I didn't cut Amber's favorite dress, I began walking out to put it back in the closet, but I immediately bumped into one of my tables, causing me to drop the dress right as all the paint toppled over onto the floor, coating the dress in a rainbow of liquid. There was no saving it.

I unlatch from my memory, coming back into the present to ask Amber, "Why do you need it?"

"Wyatt's having a memorial for his rabbit," Amber explains.

How come every explanation regarding Cyrus's kids only ever gives me more questions?

"He has a rabbit?"

"Apparently. Anyway, the dress?"

"Uh, haven't seen it," I lie.

"Crap," she mutters. "I've looked everywhere."

"Well, maybe it's in the basement?" I suggest, solely to get her far enough away that she won't hear my own rummaging around that's about to start.

"Hmm. I'll look."

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

I step into the kitchen right as Walker's finishing a call, so I stop walking and listen.

"Yeah ... Yes ... Sure thing ... Of course ... Thank you again."

Walker hangs up the phone and sets it down on the counter with a huge smile.

"Who was that?" I ask.

"That was the adoption agency. We've been approved for adoption."

At a loss for words, I go up and hug him, squeezing him in until my excitement settles down enough that I'm able to back up and speak.

"I can't believe it," I say. "We're actually doing this."

After our conversation on Father's Day, we began looking into having a baby. We considered actually making a child with one of us being genetically connected to the baby, like what Amber and Andi did, but Walker and I chose to adopt instead. It wasn't a hard decision, because Walker was also adopted, so he already had good feelings toward it. Currently, we are in the process of adopting a baby from South Africa.

"We're gonna have a baby soon," Walker says, his smile unmovable.

"Well, I hope we will," I respond. "The process is complicated."

His expression turns out not to be unmovable as it dims a little. "I know. I just really want this to work out."

"Me too."

Somehow I've managed to peel our happy moment back into one of worry with my doubt.

"Um, on another note," I speak up, interrupting the quiet, "Wyatt's bunny died."

"He had a bunny?"

"Yeah, nobody knows where it came from, but, um, we're gonna go to the memorial later at their house."

"Okay," Walker responds.

While he begins stepping toward the living room, a tug inside me makes me call out once more.

"Walker?"

"Yeah?" he asks, turning back around to me.

"Can we not tell them yet?"

Walker takes a second before nodding and replying, "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

"I just don't want to get their hopes up in case we don't end up getting a baby."

"I agree."

"Yeah," I breathe. "We don't want a repeat of the new front door situation."

"Jonah, nobody cared about the door."

"I cared, and we didn't get it," I mumble.

Walker comes over and puts his arm around me, muttering, "Okay."


	41. S2 E1.2: Cycle of Life

**Andi's POV**

After rooting through nearly every one of my cabinets and trunks in my studio, I finally find the dress shoved to the back of the last cupboard, behind several balls of string. I pull it out and find out that the damage is worse than I remember. Every colour of paint covers the whole thing entirely, leaving not a single speck of black.

"What are you doing?"

I spin around to see Hazel coming in with her eyes curiously on the dress in my hands. I quickly shove it behind my back as I turn to her.

"Nothing."

"You know that saying 'nothing' doesn't make it true right?"

I sigh. "Okay, fine. I, uh, did something by accident a month ago."

Slowly, I bring the dress out from behind my back into Hazel's view, and her mouth drops into a shocked but amused look.

"Oh my God. Is that Mom's dress?"

"Yes. I was going to get it cleaned, but I kinda forgot about it, and now there's no time, because she's looking for it right now."

My daughter takes a step forward, calmly saying, "Okay, first of all, take a deep breath."

I do as told, but I'm still just as nervous.

"That did nothing," I state.

"Yeah, but it's something people say when other people are stressed."

"I need to get this paint out of this dress before your mom gets back upstairs!" I say, my voice on the edge of freaking out.

"Well, first thing's first."

She walks out of the studio, and I step forward enough to see her go across the hall to press the doorknob on the basement door inward and turn it, effectively locking it.

"Cool," she says as she reenters the studio. "Now time is irrelevant."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

"Hello," I say as I descend the stairs into the basement, "can I get your attention for one minute?"

All three of my kids look away from their current business. Andreas pauses his video game, Brayden marks the page of his book, and Cara drops her legos on the carpet.

"I'm gonna need you all to cancel whatever plans you had for this afternoon," I state.

"What?" Andreas reacts. "I had a date with Oceana."

"I had a beheading for a Barbie bourgeoisie!" Cara joins in.

"Unlike my egotistical siblings, I don't have plans and would be happy to do whatever you need," Brayden says.

"Unlike my lame brother," Andreas snipes back, "I have a girlfriend."

"You're not striking the nerve you think you are," Brayden mumbles.

Andreas just got back from camp, which he spent most of the summer working as a counsellor at. Although I missed him, I didnt miss the fighting between him and his brother which is back at full force since he returned a few days ago. When Andreas got back, he also had a girlfriend that I didn't find out about until she showed up at our house yesterday.

"Fine. You can bring Oceana," I say.

"I don't even know what we're doing," Andreas counters.

"We're going to a memorial."

"You expect me to bring the girlfriend I've had for one month to a memorial? That's more like a one year thing."

"Relax. It's for a rabbit that was living under Wyatt's bed."

"We're going to a memorial for a rabbit?" Brayden echoes.

"Yes, and it meant a lot to Wyatt, so you'll wear something nice and be comforting when you're there."

"Easy for you to say!" Cara speaks up. "You don't have a bunch of treasonists getting in the way of your Barbies' French Revolution!"

"Brayden," I say, turning my attention to him rather than the upset girl on the ground, "stop teaching your sister about violent history."

"If she doesn't learn it, she's bound to repeat it."

And on that note, I decide just to give up and go back upstairs. When I reach the main floor, I call out my husband's name, looking to inform him of our new plans, but I get no response. Right as I figure he must still be out, I hear the garage open, and I change my path, going through the kitchen and out the mudroom door into the garage where I see Marty climbing down off a smoke black motorcycle. He takes off his helmet and sets it down on the concrete as I fold my arms over my chest, raising my eyebrows but not in joy.

"What is this?" I question. "You were supposed to change our car insurance plan."

"I did," Marty responds, "but there was a motorcycle dealer next door, and there was this great baby, and I'd been thinking of this for a while."

The whole time he speaks, I'm nodding slowly, keeping my teeth clenched together. Marty's excitement fades into worry when he finishes his explanation and notices my critical look.

"You're not saying anything."

"I don't know what to say," I respond. "You went out and bought a motorcycle without talking to me first."

"I know, but I thought you'd like it."

"I'll really like it when it's returned," I counter.

"Buffy, seriously?"

"I don't want to talk about this, Marty. And considering you didn't either before you bought it, I assume that will be no problem for you."

I turn around and go inside, needing to find somewhere to just cool down for a while. I really don't want to deal with this, but I'm already starting to get a headache from the stress.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

We've tried everything. We tried scrubbing, dabbing, scraping, wringing. The paint is not coming out of the dress, and the water's been running at a pace that the bathtub drain can't keep up with. It's on the verge of spilling bubbles all over the bathroom tiles. Hazel continues scrubbing the dress with a sponge, but my head drops down in defeat.

"This stain remover is useless," I complain.

"Well, it wasn't designed to get thirty-dollar fabric faints out of an entire dress," Hazel reasons. "This isn't a stain. It's a complete colour overhaul."

"I don't know what to try now," I weep. "We've used every cleaning product we could find, from dish soap to drain cleaner."

"Well, is there's one thing you guys have taught me, it's that when all else fails, go get the bleach."

She drops the dress in the tub and stands up, but as soon as she starts walking, Amber appears in the doorway, and my chest tightens, terrified of how mad she's going to be.

"What's going on?" she interrogates.

"Amber," I say, getting up onto my own feet, "how'd you, um..."

"The basement lock is the kind where you just need a stick to poke into the hole. I used a skewer. More importantly, is that my dress?"

She rushes past me and picks up the soaked fabric, her eyes horrified as she gives it a look over.

"I'm really sorry," I say. "Um...you see, the Skip-The-Dishes guy was insanely clumsy, and—"

"Mommy!" Hazel snaps, her eyes telling me to give it up.

"Okay," I sigh. "Last month, I spilt paint on it."

Amber shakes her head at the dress and looks to me. "Andi..."

"It was an accident. I'm really sorry."

"This was my favorite dress."

"I know. I'll buy you a new one."

"We share the same bank account," Amber reminds me. "You don't need to do that."

"I feel really bad," I tell her. "I tried to get it out."

"Why didn't you tell me a month ago?" she questions. She's not yelling anymore. Now she's just curious.

"I thought you'd be mad. It's your favorite dress."

"Yeah, it is, and I am mad," she states, "but you know, people make mistakes, and if there came a time where I made one, I'd want you to forgive me too."

I definitely wasn't expecting her to be so understanding. Usually, she gets very upset over the destruction of her clothes, or really any of her stuff. The only way she'd be this reasonable is if she..."

"Oh my gosh! What did you do?" I ask.

"Nothing," she insists, wide-eyed. "Can't I just forgive you?"

"Sure, but you're being very suspicious right now."

"I am not!"

"Amber!"

"Okay, your bracelet wasn't eaten by a racoon!" she confesses. "It came off my wrist while walking and fell into a sewer hole."

"I can't believe it!"

"On the bright side," Hazel chimes in, "I didn't do anything."

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

Buffy is in the midst of pulling her sneakers on as I enter the mudroom. She doesn't look at me, and it stings. She hasn't said anything to me since our fight, but I still don't get why she's so mad. Either way, I guess I should apologize, because I don't like fighting with her.

"Buffy—"

"We're going to a memorial," she interrupts me. "Can you save whatever you're going to say for later?"

Just like that, I've been shut down, and Buffy looks past me to shout for the kids who come filing in soon after. Andreas and Brayden get their shoes on immediately, but Cara goes up to her mom, upset.

"Why do I have to wear this dress?" she complains.

It's just a black one with red flowers on it. It's nothing especially formal, but nice enough.

"Because it's a memorial," Buffy replies.

"I want to wear what Brayden wears."

The girl looks up at her brother in his dress pants, bow tie, and pastel pink button-down shirt.

"Okay, next time you can, but it's too late," Buffy tells her. "We have to go."

"What's the bunny gonna do if we're late?" Cara retorts. "Die?"

"Just put on your shoes," Buffy orders.

The girl mopes but does as asked, and Andreas opens the door to the garage, his eyes brightening up when he sees what's beyond the door.

"Yoooooo! We got a motorcycle? That's so dope!"

"Don't get used to it," Buffy grumbles.


	42. S2 E1.3: Cycle of Life

**Cyrus's POV**

The whole family stands in the backyard, circled around the green compost bin. Wyatt watches with teary eyes as TJ and I lower the rabbit into the bin, and I think about how desperately I want to sanitize my hands. Once TJ and I are done, we step back to allow Wyatt to come forward with a backpack of things he hasn't yet revealed.

"Goodbye, Monsoon," the boy weeps. "You were the best friend a boy could ask for."

TJ leans in to me to whisper, "Should we be concerned that his best friend was a rabbit?"

"If it persists through adolescence, yes," I respond.

"I thought you should be with some of your favorite things," Wyatt goes on, "so I brought them."

He unzips the backpack and begins taking out its contents and tossing them into the compost bin, many of which aren't compostable, so I'll have to go in and remove them tonight. First is a handful of Cheerios that he sullenly drops like confetti. Next is a full, unopened can of black beans. Then a silver watch with an ugly, muddy yellow, pleather wrist strap that I recognize. Actually, I'm quite pleased with this toss. I always hated that watch. It's all ripped up and makes any outfit look ratty instantly.

"That's where my watch went," TJ mutters.

"Shhh. He's grieving."

Finally, Wyatt places a photo inside the compost bin as he explains, "And here's a photo of our trip to the beach."

"I don't recall that," I whisper.

"We should really keep a closer eye on him."

"I'll miss you, Monsoon," Wyatt says, and then he closes the lid of the green bin, letting his tears fall.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

My dads are with Wyatt in the living room, praying. I think Uncle Jonah is over there too, but everyone else is in the backyard still, going into the kitchen to get food then back out to the deck and patio every once in a while. I'm listening to Hazel talk about—I don't know—something, but I can't focus when I see the gate to the yard open, and a girl I don't recognize comes in and hugs Andreas. First of all, since when does Andreas bring girls anywhere important? Also, how does he know one so pretty? She has dark brown hair in tight waves down to her waist, and the highlighter on her bronze cheeks sparkles in the sun. She's wearing a pale blue sundress that floats as she moves. Are they related, and I just never heard about this? No. Buffy doesn't have siblings, and I'm pretty sure Marty's family is all white. That can't be it. Actually, she could be adopted like me. I've never met any of his cousins before.

Although Hazel's still talking, I'm hardly paying attention as she asks, "Do you think high school will eat me alive?"

"Yeah, probably. Um, who's that?"

I nod in the girl's direction, and Hazel finds the source of my focus.

"That's Andreas's girlfriend."

His girlfriend? Andreas with a girl like that? But really, his _girlfriend_?

"No, seriously," I say.

"Seriously," Hazel repeats. "That's his girlfriend."

"No way."

"Okay, can you move past this denial phase?"

"Since when does he have a girlfriend?" I ask, glancing back at the couple.

"He met her at camp," Hazel explains. "She was another one of the camp counsellors."

"Huh."

I watch Andreas with his girlfriend as they smile and talk, but then Andreas's eyes catch mine, and he starts walking my way with the girl by his side. And I'm nervous. Totally weird. I don't get nervous. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but it's, like, basically true.

"Hey," Andreas says. His eyes stay on mine for a moment before switching over to Hazel for a brief second too. "Jayda, Hazel, I don't think you've met Oceana yet."

"Hi," the girl says shyly.

Cute. She's cute. Like, a genuinely cute, sweet girl. And she likes Andreas? Huh.

"Oceana's my girlfriend," Andreas says.

"So I've heard," I respond. Then I look to Oceana and give her a smile, saying, "Sorry the first time you're meeting my family is at a bunny funeral. You must think we're insane."

"Oh, no. My little sister had a cremation for her lizard," she replies.

We both laugh, and her eyes wander down from mine over to my wrist.

"By the way, I love your bracelet."

"Oh, thanks. I got it for my bat mitzvah."

"It's very beautiful. I love moonstones."

She's referring to the gem that sits on each link in the silver, windy chain bracelet.

"Me too," I respond.

Her smile has quickly gone from nervous to comfortable, not forced but real. Damn. She's really nice. She likes Andreas? Feels a little off, but okay. So, she likes Andreas. Huh.

"Good to see this is going well," Andreas says suddenly, and I snap out of my thoughts.

"Speaking of going," Oceana says, looking to Andreas, "could you tell me where the little girl's room is?"

"I can show you," Hazel says.

Oceana and Hazel go off toward the deck together, which leaves me alone with Andreas. I haven't spoken to him alone and in person in months because of his summer camp. This feels strangely confrontational.

"She seems sweet," I say.

"Yeah." He puts his hands in his pockets. "I was, uh, kinda worried you wouldn't like her."

"Why wouldn't I like her?"

He pauses for a moment, looking at me, before replying, "Uh, I don't know. I guess I just had a feeling."

"Well, if you like her, I like her."

"Cool." He nods, his eyes flicking around me and our surroundings like flies that can't stay in one spot. "Um, I'm gonna get some food."

"Good idea. I'm starved," I say.

"Were you not eating an entire plate of food, like, ten minutes ago?"

"What's your point?"

He chuckles and steps on past me, brushing my shoulder with his. I follow him onto the deck where he opens the door for me and motions me forth.

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

The sun goes down earlier each night these days. Tonight, the sky is yellow by 8:00, and the kids are getting tired, but while they're all doing their things inside, I've lost track of one person. I find her in the garage. She leans against our mini van with her arms crossed as she studies the motorcycle. But she breaks her eyes away from it and onto me at the creak of one of the wooden steps beneath my feet. I finish stepping down from the doorway and onto the concrete while she comes up to meet me halfway.

"I called the store about returning it," I say. "I'm bringing it back tomorrow."

She says, "Good," but her brown eyes are still blue as she glances back at the motorcycle again.

"I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have got it. I guess I just..." I sigh. "I wanted to feel like the old me again. When we were young, we used to do exciting things and go places without talking about the cost first. I'm not that cool and spontaneous boy you fell in love with anymore, and I guess I just wanted to get some of that back, you know?"

Buffy shakes her head and steps forward, saying, "Marty, you still are that boy, and I'm still falling in love with you every day."

I give her a faint smile. "Well, I'll return the motorcycle."

"Marty, it was never about the motorcycle," she confesses, taking me by surprise. "I was about you getting it without me. We used to be a team. When one of us would take a risk—or run a marathon—we'd do it together. And I just wish you would've included me in this."

"I wanted to surprise you. I thought you'd like it."

Buffy tilts her head. "Come on, Marty. Obviously, I like it."

"So does that mean we can keep it?"

Buffy looks at the motorcycle again before bringing her eyes back to me. "Yeah, it does. Under one condition."

"Anything."

"I get to drive us now."

She goes over to the shelf and grabs the helmet that I bought for her and puts it on.

"Where are we going?" I wonder.

"Somewhere without speedbumps or any other cars around," she replies.

"This is your first time on a motorcycle, huh?"

She nods. "I didn't even ride Andi's motorbike that she had when she was thirteen."

"Cool, well, I'm scared, but that's half the fun, right?"

She mirrors my smile, and I grab my own helmet, ready to go anywhere—without speedbumps or other cars—with her.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

It's long past dusk, and Cyrus and I are about to turn in for the night, but on the way to our room, I notice the light below Wyatt's closed door. He's still awake. Either that or he left the lights on when he fell asleep. I don't know which is more likely.

"You think he's doing okay?" I wonder.

"Let's check," Cyrus responds.

We walk together up to Wyatt's door, and I knock gently but receive no response. Concerned, I carefully turn the doorknob and peer into the room. There, I see my son sitting in bed under the covers with puffy eyes from crying.

"Wyatt," I say softly, "how are you doing?"

He shakes his head and wipes his runny nose on his bed sheet. I push the door open the rest of the way and go inside, scooting myself across Wyatt's bed to sit down on the far side of him by the wall, while Cyrus cozies up on close side. With both of us around Wyatt, he lets his head fall down against my arm as he continues to weep. He rarely gets this upset about things, so seeing him like this is painful. It's a reminder that, although I want them to be able to live without any sadness at all, life doesn't work that way, and my beautiful kids weren't given any more mercy than the rest of us in this world. Someday, I won't be able to be here sitting with him when he's upset. But thank God that day's not for years. I'm not ready for that yet.

"I miss him," Wyatt whimpers.

Cyrus puts his hand on the boy's shoulder and rubs it with his thumb, providing comfort as he says, "Monsoon was special."

"He was," Wyatt agrees.

He transfers his head over to Cyrus's shoulder instead. But he doesn't forget me. He clings his hand to my elbow, keeping me connected. For a while, we just stay in silence, the three of us linked together like a chain.

Eventually, Wyatt speaks again in a frail voice, "Can we go to the park tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure," I reply.

Wyatt smiles at that, his tears beginning to dry. But then he asks one more thing.

"Will you give me and underdog on the swing?"

I smile and lean in to kiss the top of his head before whispering, "Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the season premiere. I think you'll all be very excited and surprised by what I have in store this season. I'm so excited to write it all for you guys. I love you! See you Sunday with the next episode.


	43. S2 E2.1: The Gender Divide

**Hazel's POV**

"I really hope we're not still doing track and field," Aimée says. "I can never jump high enough, so it's just embarrassing."

To that, Darius steps closer and replies, "You could say it presents you with a... _hurdle_."

"Good Lord, Darius," Aimée groans.

Three of my friends are in my P.E. class with me: Aimée, Darius, and Fatima. Their presence makes it a lot easier to be here, although I have to give most of that credit to my teacher, who, thankfully, isn't completely ignorant about my situation. He doesn't divide us by gender. Rather, he uses set standards to grade everyone, and the beauty of it is, as long as you show up to class and do what is asked, you're guaranteed to pass. I was terrified my first day of gym class at Grant, but Mr. Stichler made it a lot easier than I had expected. So walking into the gym now and not seeing him zaps fear into my pulse.

"Where's Mr. Stichler?" Fatima wonders.

After a few seconds of confused faces from the entire class, a woman with a whistle pushes through the doors and steps in, her lips grim and eyes cold, like a ghost who was just murdered and wants to repay the deed.

"Oh my God. I know that teacher," I tell my friends. "She used to substitute at my elementary school. She refused to use my real name and only ever called me by my deadname."

"I know her too," Fatima says, folding her arms over her chest. "She subbed for my math class last year at Jefferson. She compared my hijab to a towel."

"Okay, come in, class!" the teacher, Ms. Chernin calls. I couldn't forget her name even if I wanted to. "I'll be teaching your class for the rest of the semester."

Immediately, one of my classmates shoots their hand up, not waiting to be picked before asking, "What happened to Mr. Stichler?"

"Mr. Stichler's wife went into labour, and now he's getting paid paternity leave..." In a mumble, she adds "...because apparently if you have a baby, you get money for doing nothing."

I take in a shaky breath and let it out loudly. "Okay, I'm officially scared."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Fatima tells me. "It's only three and a half-ish months."

"I hope," I respond, "because ninth-grade P.E. is mandatory, so I can't exactly drop it."

"Today we're starting the volleyball unit," Ms. Chernin announces, "so let's split. Girls on this side. Boys on that side."

 _Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Um..._ To save me from my mental disaster, Fatima and Aimée link their arms through mine and gesture for me to come with them. It's a question, an offer, and I accept, following them over to the rest of the girls while trying to keep my whole body from turning inside out and imploding. I'm much more comfortable once standing with the other girls, and I feel my heart starting to slow again.

"Either of you good at volleyball?" I ask, attempting to focus my mind somewhere else.

"I've seen it played in movies," Aimée answers, "so, like, no."

The three of us laugh, and I'm starting to think this will be okay. But then I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I see the teacher behind me.

"Kippen-Mack, other side."

For a pure minute, I can't move. I'm completely paralyzed. And nobody else in the class is seeing this. They're just talking, some getting the volleyballs out from the equipment room, others just waiting to be given one. My friends don't do anything. After all, what would they do? What would I do? Well, I walk to the other side.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

I'm hardly hungry at lunch. Honestly, I feel like I might throw up if I eat. I sit with my three friends at one of the tables outside the school. I didn't want to be in the cafeteria, visible to everyone from my gym class, not after this morning. My appetite really isn't being helped by the sight of Darius's long, brown curls dragging over his banana as he eats it horizontally like a corn on the cob. Eventually, I can't stand it anymore.

"Darius, what are you?" I snap.

He lowers the banana to the table and responds, "I wanted to make sure you weren't so upset that you wouldn't get mad at that."

He grins and takes a bite from the fruit normally. Aimée looks at him in confusion, but Fatima's still in thought.

"I'm pretty sure Ms. Chernin can't do what she did," she says.

"Well, she did it, so apparently she can," I reply.

I drop my face into my arms on the table, groaning in a way that reminds me of Jayda.

"It was humiliating," I whine and then lift my head again. "And I'm going to have to go through that for the entire semester. I can't do it."

"Well, what are you gonna do?" Aimée asks.

"I can't go back," I just state. "I'll do P.E. in summer school."

"I've never heard of anyone doing summer school for P.E.," Darius responds.

"Even better. If it's just me, then I won't have to worry about a stupid gender divide."

"So you're just gonna stop going to P.E.?" Fatima says.

"Precisely."

"You always say we should face our problems rather than avoid them," she reminds me, and I instantly regret ever having said that.

"I'm fourteen. What do I know? Plus, many great people in history were hypocrites."

"It's sad how true that is," Aimée mutters.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

I stand at the corner of the kitchen island while Wyatt sits on the stool, and TJ leans across the counter from the other side, watching as Wyatt spreads his deck of cards like a fan in his hands.

"Pick a card."

TJ selects one at random, and Wyatt closes his deck back into a stack.

"Put it in your wallet, and put the wallet on the table."

TJ does as instructed, and once the wallet is sitting on the countertop, Wyatt waves his hands over it. TJ and I share a glance. Wyatt's been into magic lately, and it's been adorable to watch him scramble to convince us there was magic involved in him peeking at our cards. But he doesn't peek at anything this time.

"Snap," Wyatt orders.

Wyatt can't snap, but he insists the tricks won't work without a snap, so TJ always does it for him. Wyatt waits another second before placing his hands down on the counter and looking up at his dad.

"Check your wallet."

TJ takes it off the counter and opens it up.

"The card's still here," he says.

"But see what isn't?"

TJ looks again, and shock hits him. "I'm missing my credit card. Give it back."

Wyatt pulls it out from the deck of cards, and I'm stunned. Okay, maybe he's not such a bad magician after all.

After putting his credit card back, TJ steps over to me, and says, "I know we're already saving up for his college fund, but we might need to start an account for bail funds too in case this magic becomes too good."

"Good idea," Wyatt chirps, having overheard. "One bale costs eighty dollars. Horses eat expensive."

He jumps down off his stool happily, going upstairs, and neither TJ nor I correct him. A second later, a knock on the front door gets our attention, and we both go over to answer it. Jonah steps inside onto the red doormat with a brown box in his arms.

"Hey," he says. "Here you go."

He passes the box to me, and TJ gives me a puzzled look.

"What's that?" he asks.

"It's this really strong bug spray that practically makes mosquitoes drop dead just by looking at it," Jonah responds.

"Since when do we use that?" TJ wonders.

"It's only for me," I explain. "Mosquitoes love me."

TJ chuckles. "Who knew I'd have anything in common with a mosquito?"

"Smooth," Jonah responds. "Also, is your doorbell working? I tried ringing, but you guys didn't answer."

"I didn't hear it," I say.

I look to TJ, but he shakes his head. "Me nether. But that explains a lot. I've been getting mad at the pizza guy this whole time for taking too long."

"Oh, yeah, the doorbell's broken," Wyatt suddenly says, coming down the stairs.

"Why didn't you tell us?" I question.

"Because I'm making a new one."

TJ furrows his brows. "You're making a new doorbell?"

"Yes," Wyatt confirms, "and it's going to be amazing."

He marches back up to his room without explaining anything else.

"I know a guy at a doorbell repair shop," Jonah mentions once Wyatt's gone.

"That's a very niche shop," I say. "How do they stay in business?"

"They also install carpets."

"They sell carpets and doorbells?" TJ responds curiously.

"No, they repair doorbells and install carpets. They don't sell anything. Anyway, I learned a few tricks about doorbell repairs from the guy there the last time my doorbell broke, so I could come by tomorrow once I have more time to fix it."

"That would be great," I say. "Thank you so much."

"No problem. I've gotta head out now, though."

"Say hi to Walker for us," I say.

Jonah nods and exits again, pulling the door shut behind himself. As soon as the door seals, Wyatt's voice sounds out again from the top of the stairs.

"You're wasting your time. I'm making something better than any doorbell."

I don't know what to say, because I don't want to kill his creativity, but we also do need a functioning doorbell, so I just settle on responding, "Can't wait to see it."


	44. S2 E2.2: The Gender Divide

**TJ's POV**

A clack wakes me out of my dream state, and I sit up in my bed, listening to the banging and clicking and scraping and hammering and stepping, all coming from the floor below. When we went to sleep, Wyatt was working on his doorbell, and the racket tells me that he still is. Cyrus sits up next to me, his eyes barely open.

"Wyatt's still up?" Cyrus grumbles.

"Should we check on him?" I wonder.

"Probably."

We both look at each other, but neither of us move. It's 3:00 AM. I'm too tired for this, and I can tell by Cyrus's groggy eyes that he feels the same.

"I suppose we shouldn't get in the way of his creativity," Cyrus eventually says.

"Just what I was thinking."

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

Buffy and I sit down in the two chairs at the desk of Mr. Mirshahi, Jefferson Middle School's principal, in his office. The door remains open behind us, allowing the chatter of the rest of admin ring through, and Mr. Mirshahi has yet to enter in.

"We haven't been in this office since Andreas's last day of grade eight," I comment.

"I know," Buffy responds. "I have moments where I forget we're not here for him and start planning punishments in my head."

Suddenly, the principal steps through the door, but he's still yelling at someone outside the office, "No. I'm the principal. What I say goes."

Like flicking a switch, he goes from heated to calm in an instant and nonchalantly sits down in his big, cushy chair across the desk from us.

"Sorry about that," he says. "The school board cut more funding, so there's a debate among staff over whether we should get rid of the free snacks in the staff room or fire a teacher. Anyway, I brought you both in here to talk about Brayden."

"Did he do something?" Buffy asks.

"His behaviour is fine," Mr. Mirshahi replies, "but it's come to our attention recently that he's being bullied."

"What?" Buffy reacts.

"What happened?" I question.

I know that Brayden can get teased from time to time for how smart he is, but there's never been a bullying problem so bad that the teachers had to get involved. And Brayden never mentioned anything about this to Buffy or me. I wonder why.

"There's a group of boys that have been shoving him around and calling him names to insinuate that he might be gay."

Of course the possibility of one of my kids being gay has crossed my mind before. How could it not? Six of my friends are queer. But Andreas clearly isn't, and I just assumed Brayden wasn't even thinking about that kind of stuff yet. Like, he's twelve. But I guess I was interested in girls when I was twelve. Brayden's just never shown any interest in anyone that way before. I'm his dad, so maybe that's why I've never seen it. He might just hide it. Or maybe there are just some boys pinning some of his feminine hobbies on him being gay, and he really isn't. Either way, I don't want him being bullied.

"What specifically have they said?" I ask.

"Various things. One name that is thrown around often is 'Gayden.'"

"So what are you doing to stop this?" Buffy questions.

"We're meeting with the boys and their parents as well, hoping to crush this before it gets worse."

"It never should've started," Buffy states.

"I hope you can understand how difficult it is to catch these things," Mr. Mirshahi responds. "Bullying isn't obvious. It's hidden behind jokes and actions passed off as accidents. The reason I'm talking to you rather than Brayden is because I'm sure you will want to talk to him about this on your own."

"Yes, we do," Buffy says, "but can I give you a tip for the future?"

When the principal looks uncertain, Buffy goes ahead.

"If you have another student being called gay, it might not be the best thing to go to their parents before you talk to the kid."

"Well, it's standard procedure—"

"It's also risking a kid's well-being even further."

With her stress causing her to be restless, Buffy stands up, and seeing that, I do the same.

"If that's all," she says, "we're gonna go."

She hurries out of the office, walking faster than her regular pace, something she does when she's worked up. I run to catch up, nearing her as we get out to the school hallway.

"Buffy, Buffy." I take her hand and turn her around to face me, saying, "Are you okay?"

"Our son is being bullied, and he never told us. Of course I'm not okay."

"Well, now we know, so we can talk to him."

Buffy nods and takes a deep breath as she squeezes my hand.

"Okay," she breathes.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Marty and I wait in the parking lot for the school bell to ring. Soon, Brayden gets into the backseat of the car, and my eyes hold on to him in the rearview mirror. He looks completely normal. I never would've guessed he was being bullied. Something about him being so unaffected by it makes me feel even worse.

"How come I'm not taking the bus home?" Brayden asks.

"Um, well, we were talking to someone," I answer.

"I'm sorry," he says before I can continue. "I told my English teacher that you wouldn't understand my take on Othello, but she insisted she share it with you."

"No, that's not it, although it is a little offensive." I turn around in my seat to look at him better. "We were talking to your principal."

"Oh, sorry. I'm not cheating. He's just convinced I am because nobody's gotten a perfect one hundred percent on three history tests in a row before me."

I shake my head. "That's not it either."

"Are we sure he's ours?" Marty whispers.

"I ask myself that everyday," Brayden says.

"The principal said you're being bullied," I explain before I can be interrupted again.

That makes Brayden freeze, and he stays silent for a moment before eventually saying, "Well, the math kids do like to taunt me because I frequently bollix up the trigonometry equations—"

"What about being gay?" I cut him off, my impatience getting the better of me.

Brayden's eyes fall downward as he responds, "I don't know what you're referring to."

Marty has lost his patience too, and he joins in, saying, "People are calling you Gayden or something?"

"That's false," Brayden snaps. "It's a joke. Can we drive now?"

I look at him, although he's avoiding my eyes. "Brayden—"

"I'm in the middle of memorizing the La La Land script in French. I can't talk, so drive. Please."

He pulls out his phone in a rush to get away from the conversation, and I turn around to the wheel, giving up as I start the car.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

I step into Hazel's bedroom doorway with a knock, and she looks up from her sketchbook. When I asked her how her day was earlier, she only said it was good. Clearly, she left something out, because the call I just received told me otherwise. But she acts like she doesn't know anything. She just smiles at me, closing the lid on her marker to give me her focus.

"So I got a voicemail from the school," I start, and right away her eyes start to widen, showing me that she knows exactly what I'm talking about. "It said you missed second period. What's second period?"

"Uh, math," she answers without missing a beat.

"Why are you skipping math?"

She's never had a problem with that subject before. I'm pretty sure she was one of the top students in her class last year.

"Have you ever really thought about multiplication?" she challenges instead of giving me an answer. "It's pulling numbers out of nowhere. Making something from nothing should be impossible, and yet it isn't. It's just too much for me."

"Hazel, you have to go to class."

She looks terrified by that and shakes her head. "It's really hard. You would agree if you had the homework."

"That's not a reason to miss school, and it's also not like you. What's really going on? Are people being mean to you?"

"The word 'mean' is subjective, so really, is anything mean?"

"Stop confusing me with your bizarre philosophy."

"It's hardly bizarre," she argues. "For philosphy, that thought it quite tame. The idea that nothing is black and white, and people see things very differently, is, like, the basic bitch of philosophy."

"You're fourteen. You're supposed to see everything as black and white and get irrationally mad at everything."

"Is that what you did?" she questions with a grin.

Before I can respond, Amber comes by the door, saying, "I didn't hear anything else, but to your last question, yes."

Then she leaves, and I return my eyes to my daughter, just plain upset now. I don't know why she's acting this way. She's never been the rebellious kid. She always judged Jayda for being that way.

"Look," I say, "if people are being mean, then you need to let me—"

"Can you please just stay out of it for once?" she argues. "You don't always need to be so nosy and try to control my life."

"When do I try to control you?"

"Indirectly, a lot. You try to manipulate my feelings to get me to do what you want."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm such a bad mom."

"This is what I'm talking about!" she presses.

"I just want to help you!"

"If you want to help, just don't. I'll go to class. Just stay out of it."

After that, she stands up and comes over to the door, closing it on me with a slam. Still angry, I go into the kitchen and drop down into the seat next to Amber at the table.

"Do you think I'm nosy—?"

"Yes."

Her answer is so quick that I can't even finish breathing before she hurts my feelings.

"I only do that because I care," I defend.

"Sometimes your way of caring just ends up screwing things up," Amber responds.

"But some situations, I need to get involved. Like today Hazel skipped class."

Amber wasn't expecting that. "What? Oh my God. She's turning into me."

"I thought it was an irresponsible thing at first too, but now I think something's happening.

"Something's happening with her? What?"

"I don't know! That's why I need to pry."

"Okay, you need to calm down," Amber tells me. "Take a page out of Cyrus's parenting book. He's always very calm in tough situations."

"Jayda tried to give herself a tattoo last year, and Wyatt had a rabbit living under his bed for months," I state flatly.

Amber lets out a huff. "Fine."


	45. S2 E2.3: The Gender Divide

**Cyrus's POV**

I stand by the front door while Jonah stands on a chair, removing the chime unit from it's place at the top of the wall right beside the door. I didn't even know this thing existed. I just never thought about where the doorbell sound actually came from.

"So what have you been up to?" I ask. "Other than fixing doorbells. You and Walker haven't mentioned much about what's new with you guys."

He fiddles with the wires in the wall while stuttering, "We—uh—we haven't been doing much."

"Nothing? Just same old? You and him hanging out?"

"Uh, yeah. Just me and him. Actually, um, we...uh..."

His thought is stolen by Wyatt's arrival as the boy thumps down the stairs, his eyebrows scrunched in anger.

"How could you!"

The shout brings TJ up from downstairs, and he walks through the hallway to come over to me and see the scene occurring.

"You guys are fixing the doorbell behind my back!" Wyatt yells. "You're cheating on me!"

"That's really not what's happening," I state "...at all."

Rather than argue, Wyatt walks down to the bottom of the stairs and whips open the door. Out there, there's a piece of rope that wasn't there before. He gives it a yank, and all of a sudden, I notice movement through the open window in the living room. The rope from outside has been fed through and tied to the leg of the coffee table. The yank of the rope jolts the table, which causes the vase of flowers on it to tip over and roll onto the floor, landing on a homemade lever system using a book and a banana for it to roll on. At the other end of the lever is a set of jungle bells that get tossed up into the air. By some miracle, the jingle bells doing nothing but flying make the actual doorbell go off, and Wyatt reenters with a victorious grin.

"I told you I'd do it," he says before leaving for his bedroom to continue basking in his glory.

"Actually, there was a wire out of place," Jonah explains once Wyatt's out of range. "I just fixed it."

"Hey, Wyatt may not be good at fixing things, but at least he has confidence," TJ says.

"Sometimes too much," I agree.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Brayden hasn't spoken to me or Marty since we got home. Even at dinner, he opted to take his food upstairs rather than risk talking to us. That's by far the worst part of having kids: when they need help, but they won't accept it. As night nears, Marty and I go upstairs to his room, both still feeling like there's more to our conversation with him that we need to discuss.

Brayden is here at his desk, looking between his phone and a book. But Andreas is also here on his own bed, smiling at something on his phone that I'd probably find dumb.

"Andreas," Marty says, "could you give us a minute?"

Andreas looks at Brayden then at Marty and gets up, saying, "Oh, I see how it is. You want to talk to your favorite kid."

"He's not our favorite," Marty replies, confused by our teenager.

Andreas just smiles and says, "Cool. I'm narrowing it down."

He gets to the doorway as I say, "We don't have a favorite."

"Got it," the boy says with a wink that tells me he doesn't get it.

I decide to leave that chat for another time and step into the room with Marty, each of us kneeling down on either side of Brayden's chair. The boy brings his book up closer to his face, avoiding looking at us, but neither of us move.

"We didn't get to finish our talk in the car," I say.

"Really?" he responds. "I was finished."

I'm tired of him avoiding this, and Marty is too. Marty doesn't beat around the bush anymore. He gets straight to the point.

"Brayden," he says, "are you gay?"

"No," Brayden denies. "Anyone who says otherwise is fostering a purely erroneous idea."

Clearly, we've come on too strong, but I just wish he would be honest with me. Why can't he just talk to me about what he's feeling?

"Brayden, it's entirely okay if you are," I say. "You know that, right?"

"I told you I'm not," Brayden insists. "What more do you want from me?"

"We want you to know that we love you," I answer.

His eyes stay down as he mutters, "I know that."

"And gay or not," Marty joins in, "we're here for you through anything."

Brayden doesn't respond to that, but he heard it.

"You can always talk to us," I say, "or to Cyrus or TJ or Jonah or Walker. They're all there for you too. Amber and Andi as well."

After another minute of silence, Marty sighs. "Well, I think that's pretty much all we have to say, unless you want to say anything."

Nothing.

"Okay, well, we'll let you get back to your..." I look at the open pages of the book he's holding, but it looks like gibberish. "What is that?"

"German poetry," Brayden mumbles. "I'm using an app to translate it."

I nod. "Fun. Well, we love you."

"Love you too," he responds quietly.

At that, Marty and I stand up and leave Brayden to himself.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Nobody's in the stairwell at this time, since they're all in class. That makes it the perfect place for me to hide, tucked under the stairs beside a cello in a locker. I guess band class isn't happening right now. The door opening startles me, but I stay quiet, hoping whoever it is won't notice me. But then the face comes into sight as she lowers down onto the floor to sit next to me. Fatima's eyes speak before she does. She does this a lot. She leaves space for the silence to talk, and that always makes me want to spill everything to her. It's a trick I taught her. I shouldn't have. She uses it on me a lot.

"What are you doing here?" I question.

"Seeing how you are," she answers.

"How did you even find me?"

"On orientation day, you looked at the stairwell and said, 'That would be a good place to hide.'" She shrugs. "I took a guess."

"How did you even get out of class?"

"I asked to use the washroom."

I nod, and for some reason it feels like sinking into tar, being stuck when all I want to do is run.

"Yes. Go use your perfect, gender-affirming washroom."

Fatima tilts her head at me. "They let you use the girls' washroom."

"Yeah, but I use a different change room, because otherwise..."

I don't even know where to start. I've said all of this to Fatima before, but every time I just feel like there aren't the right words invented to describe how I feel. 'Dysphoria' is not at all strong enough.

"No offense, but you don't understand what it's like to try so hard to look the way you feel, but still people refuse to accept you, because...no matter what your wear or how you act, you're still trapped with this body that just isn't right. The universe really screwed up when it made me."

"You're right," Fatima says. "I could never understand what it's like to be you. But I don't think the universe messed up with you. I think you were made exactly the way you needed to to be made for you to be as strong and brave and kind and—" she releases a breath "—beautiful as you are. I believe Allah gave you adversity because He knew you could handle it."

Fatima pauses to pick up my hand and close it in hers before she continues.

"There are a lot of people who care about you and who do look at you and see you for who you are. Hazel, we've been friends since we were how old?"

"Six," I answer, feeling a smile try to escape, and I almost let it.

"Right, and since then, you've constantly inspired me. You gave me the confidence to be myself, because you were yourself. You were so unapologetically yourself, and it was incredible. Do you remember the first time I went to the mall in my hijab?"

I wipe the tear that is starting to well in my eye and nod. "Yeah."

"I was so nervous, because I felt like people were looking at me weird, but then I'd look at you and remember how you never cared about what anyone thought. All the people who didn't understand you... You said how we shouldn't hate the ignorant. We should help them."

"I don't remember that part."

"But I do. And I think about it all the time to this day. That and what you said about upside down being relative and therefore every direction."

She laughs a little then squeezes my hand once more before letting it fall away from hers.

"Come back to gym class," she says. "I think you'll be okay."

"Fatima, I—"

"Do you trust me?"

She stands up, and my eyes follow hers. Do I trust her?

With a breath, I get up and nod.

I don't really know what I expect when I go back into the gym, but it sure as hell isn't what I find. The whole class is sitting on the floor, not divided by gender, not playing volleyball, and the Ms. Chernin is nowhere in sight. At my entry, my two friends, Darius and Aimée, run up to me, while the rest of the class begins to get to their feet, eyes on me. What is this? What is happening? Aimée engulfs me in a hug, but I remain shocked.

"What did you do?" I ask.

Aimée backs up with a smile. "We said we wouldn't play unless you could play with the girls."

"You guys arranged that?"

"Actually, Adrian did."

"Adrian?"

Out of the crowd of people comes the boy. My friends step aside as he approaches me, giving me space to question him. Adrian is in my art class too, but I've never talked to him much except when he starts wondering about how numbers interact in different scenarios that have nothing to do with art.

"You did this?" I say.

He smiles and shrugs, responding, "Well, I only came up with the idea. Everyone was willing to help."

I'm still taken aback by the support of all my classmates, but the fact that Adrian organized it is even more curious.

"Why?" I question.

"In all honesty," he starts, "I've been subtly getting you to do my math homework for me by asking you all those random questions in art class."

"Oh. Well, thanks."

Not the answer I was expecting, but I suppose that proves that if you do things for others, they do things for you. And if I can keep relationships like this going, maybe I could grow some kind of army of supporters. With that, I bet I could handle high school just fine. I don't know. That probably won't happen. But who knows?

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

When Hazel comes in the door after school, I'm sitting on the couch the way I have been for the past twenty minutes just waiting for her. Amber is in the middle of getting a muffin out from the kitchen, but she comes over as Hazel takes her jacket and shoes off.

"Hey," Hazel says.

"Hey," I respond, grinning wide. "So anything happen at school?"

She shakes her head nonchalantly, saying, "Nope."

"Oh, come on. You're really not gonna tell us?"

At that, she crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at me. "Tell you what?"

"That your transphobic gym teacher got reassigned to a different school."

"You called the school?" she guesses.

"Well, you don't tell me things, so I need to find them out myself."

Hazel looks to Amber and questions, "Were you in on this, Momma?"

"Actually, I was really excited to get Subway delivered, but that explains why it's not here yet."

"Yeah, I didn't call Subway," I admit.

"Snooping _and_ lying," Hazel summarizes. "Where does it end?"

"When it comes to protecting you, it doesn't."

Hazel lets out a sigh as she comes over to drop down next to me on the couch.

"Mom, I know you want to protect me, but you need to let me fight my own battles."

"You've always done that," I remind her. "You've never needed me. When we'd cross the street when you were three, you'd tell me not to hold your hand."

"Mom, I do need you," she clarifies. "I just don't need you digging into my life all the time. But I do need you. I'd just like it if you'd let me come to you rather than you forcing your way in."

"Okay," I accept. "I can do that."

Hazel smiles. "I know you're gonna forget about that the second another incident comes up, but I still appreciate it."

She leans in and gives me a hug, and my thoughts are flooded instantly with nothing but how much I love her. This girl, my girl, is everything. I guess I will have to let her go someday. I really don't know how I'll be able to do that, but I love her, so I'll figure it out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here's another episode. This one had some important things to introduce plots and ideas and stuff, although I recognize that it might've been slightly less entertaining than previous ones. The next one is one I'm really excited for, so I think you'll like that. I hope you still liked this, though. I love you all so much. Thank you!


	46. S2 E3.1: Makeup Your Mind

**Cyrus's POV**

The speakers describe what's happening on the screen in the engaging voice of the announcer while TJ sits on the couch, his eyes glued to the basketball game playing on the living room TV.

"TJ," I say, "did you do the dishes?"

He doesn't move a millimetre as he replies, "Yup."

It appears that's the longest answer I'll get out of him as long as that game is on, so I carry on into the kitchen to begin getting the cookbooks out for later when our friends will get here for dinner, but as soon as I step into the space, my daughter shows up behind me and requests my attention.

"Daddy, what do you think of this outfit?"

It's a sleeveless, coral-coloured dress with an a-line skirt and a notched neckline that ties with thin string bow.

"It's very cute," I respond.

That earns me a groan off annoyance. "Ugh! Now I have to go change."

She stomps back toward the stairs but halts and swivels back around in less than a second.

"By the way," she adds, "you're gonna have to make dinner for one extra person, because Andreas is bringing his girlfriend."

"Without warning," I mutter. "Lovely."

While my daughter heads back upstairs, I turn to face the kitchen, but alas, all the dishes are still sitting on the counter by the sink, which means I can't start cooking, because I need some of them for it.

"TJ," I say as I return to the living room, but he doesn't hear me. "TJ."

On the second try, TJ jolts his eyes up, and he grabs the remote to pause the TV.

"What's up?" he asks.

"You didn't do the dishes."

"Oh," he says as the realization hits him. "Right. Sorry, I forgot."

"It's alright," I say, although my voice doesn't sound very convincing.

TJ stands up, saying, "I'll do them now."

With a nod, I give a bleak, "Thank you."

Right as I turn around again, and TJ goes to the kitchen, Jayda comes down the stairs again, this time in a short, sequinned skirt and a black, off-the-shoulder top.

"What do you think of this?" she asks, and I sigh.

"Jayda, if you're waiting for me to disapprove, you should stop. You're having dinner with our family and friends. I'm hardly concerned with how short your skirt is—although it is pretty windy today, so I wouldn't recommend going outside in that."

She gives me an offended expression, even though we both know this is what she does. She tries to find the one thing I don't want her wearing so that she can wear that. I guess it's part of her teenage rebellion. It's better than a lot of things she could be doing instead, so I tolerate it.

A second later, Wyatt comes down the stairs behind Jayda, saying, "That's a lot of plastic sequins. You look like you could kill a turtle just by stepping near the ocean."

That obviously wasn't the right kind of disapproval for Jayda, because she groans again, this time sharp and high, and shouts, "Andreas's girlfriend's name literally has ocean in it! I don't need her judging me!"

Wyatt ducks to avoid getting swiped by his sister's hair as she whips around and stomps back to her room.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Once I ring the doorbell, I notice Cara scratching at some chipped paint on Cyrus and TJ's porch railing. To stop her, I lift her hand off the railing and hold it in mine instead. Cyrus comes to the door a moment later and welcomes us, Marty, and Brayden into their home. As soon as Brayden takes off his shoes, he immediately starts walking toward the hallway.

"I'll be downstairs," he says.

"Me too!" Cara cheers, dashing after him. "I wanna play on the treadmill!"

Hearing that, TJ comes over, saying, "I'll go unplug that."

He follows my kids to the basement door, and I finish removing my own shoes. Leaning against the back of the couch in the living room is Jayda who scans me and Marty curiously.

"Where's Andreas?" she asks.

"He and Oceana are on their way here," Marty explains, "but they're coming from her house."

Jayda nods, still looking a little perplexed but then Andi shows up behind us with her daughter, and Marty and I step out of the way to make room for their entry.

**Jayda's POV**

Hazel takes off her ballet flats and comes over to me, leaving our parents to chat amongst themselves. She gives me a once-over with her eyes, admiring my green, runched mini skirt and white, square-necked crop top.

"Damn. You sure dressed up," she compliments.

"Yeah," I say, glancing down at it.

I look at my clothes a little longer, wondering if this was too much, or maybe it's not enough, or maybe it makes me look too young like a ten year-old, or too old like a thirty year-old. I already spent three hours trying to select this outfit for tonight. I skipped lunch for this. I just don't want to get it wrong, because I know what you see is your first impression, and every time you talk to someone, you should aim to show them that flaws are something you don't have. That's my goal.

"I wanted to look hot," I ramble. "I don't know. Do I look hot? I tried to look hot, but I've also been looking at clothes so long today that I'm starting to see shoes in dust patterns, so I don't know if I totally failed."

"You look hot," Hazel states out of nowhere.

"Gross. You're my cousin."

Hazel furrows her brows and opens her mouth, but I don't care why. I'm too wrapped up in the place my mind has travelled to now.

"Jayda—"

"How are Andreas and Oceana getting here?"

"Uh, I think she's driving them."

"She drives?" I gasp. "How is that legal? Is she from Montana?"

"No," she says, still looking confused for some reason. "That's not how it works. She's sixteen."

My jaw drops. "No way!"

"Oh, this again," Hazel sighs.

My daddy's next question manages to reach my ears through my fog of thought as he asks, "Where's Amber?"

"Oh, she's still at Cloud 10," Auntie Andi replies, "but she'll be here later once she's finished with work."

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

The shop is quiet, makeup tools scattered around. I'll have to clean those later, but for now I've just formed a collection by the sink for the end of the night.

"One more appointment," Bex says.

"Yes," I say with a smile. "I'm going to TJ and Cyrus's after for dinner."

"That's fun," Bex responds.

"The door opens, and we both turn to smile at the woman who walks in. She has a large, zebra-printed coat, a purse the size of a briefcase, and curly, dark hair, giving off big Cruella de Ville vibes. Already comfortable here, she plops down in the chair by the vanity and tosses her coat aside. It's a little more assertive than most customers are, but to each their own, I guess.

"Hi," Bex says.

"Enough chatter," the woman replies. "Let's get to it."

Bex gives me a glance before saying, "Okay. Um, what kind of look are you going for tonight?"

"I'm going to a party at my husband's work," she starts explaining, "and his boss is planning to fire him soon, but apparently, he finds me attractive, so I'm going to try to seduce him to keep my husband employed, because what do you do if you have four kids and no job?" She laughs nervously, while Bex and I both just listen uncomfortably. "My sister took all the inheritance, just because my name was misspelt. I always told my parents to work on their penmanship." Having run out of breath, she breathes in deep and lets it out as a sigh. "Anyway, you can pick."

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

All the kids are in the basement, while the adults hang out upstairs. After talking with Walker, Jonah, and Andi in the living room about baby gates—I don't know how we got on that topic—I go over to the dining room where Buffy, Marty and Cyrus are all talking.

"Do either of you want something to eat?" Cyrus asks. "We have too many pre-made appetizers."

"Do you want me to bring the snacks over here?" I offer to Cyrus.

He looks over at me, for he didn't realize I was here before. Then he shakes his head.

"Don't worry about it," he says. "I'll do it."

He passes by me, not even giving me a smile, but not being cold. He's just...distant. And I can't help but feel responsible.

**Marty's POV**

While Cyrus and TJ go into the kitchen, Buffy takes the opportunity alone with me to bring up something that's been bothering her for the past few days.

"Do you think Brayden's okay?" she asks. "He hasn't really spoken to us, like, really at all since we tried talking to him."

"He never really talked to us before," I remind her.

She frowns. "I know. That's part of what worries me."

The entrance of Andreas and Oceana pulls our attention their way as they wave hello to us and open the door to the basement, disappearing down there with the rest of the kids.

**Andreas's POV**

Although I'm walking with Oceana, my eyes go to Jayda as soon as we get to the bottom of the stairs, and she leaves Hazel on the couch to come greet us. She adjusts her skirt as she walks, making sure it's not bent weirdly, which it was at the bottom, but that doesn't change anything about how good she looks. When she gets up to me, it occurs to me that I've let go of Oceana's hand by accident. But it feels weird trying to take it back now, so I don't.

"Hey," Jayda says.

"Hey," I respond.

Suddenly, another voice hops in, and I realize it's Oceana's. "I love your skirt."

"Oh, thanks," Jayda says with a smile.

"Wasn't that the one you tried wearing hiking in May when you gave up halfway up the mountain?" I recall.

She raises her eyebrow, replying, "At least I didn't waste a day of vacation in Hawaii to try to get the number of the barista three years older than you."

I roll my eyes, but Oceana is intrigued.

"What?" she says with a laugh. "When was this?"

"Don't worry," Jayda tells her. "He was twelve."

My girlfriend gasps, saying, "Oh my gosh. You were twelve? That's adorable."

"Yeah," Jayda agrees.

"I'm sure Oceana doesn't care about this," I say, wanting to get the subject onto something less embarrassing.

"No, I do," Oceana counters. "What else did he do when he was younger?"

"Girl, sit down. I have so many stories."

The girls go off together toward the sofa. I kind of want to stop this before it starts, but my friend and girlfriend are getting along, and I guess that's good. Still, Jayda knows a lot of stories about me that I'd rather Oceana not know.


	47. S2 E3.2: Makeup Your Mind

**Amber's POV**

I watch Bex struggle to apply eyeshadow to the woman, whose name we learned is Brenda and has quickly become the dictionary example of over-sharing. She keeps blinking, causing Bex to have to back away repeatedly, but if Bex tries to take a break, Brenda just tells her to keep going. I'm just getting the colours and brushes ready while trying to comprehend this woman's life story that she blabs on about.

"Honestly, I've given twenty years of my life to this man, and want to know what he's given me? A knitting class for my forty-fifth birthday, and head lice for forty-sixth."

Bex pauses a moment, asking, "How old are you now?"

"Fifty-one."

"Okay."

Bex returns the brush to her face, relieved.

"I'm fifty-one!" Brenda cries. "How did I get this old? We hardly talk anymore. He's always out golfing with Marsha. He can't do anything right unless I tell him exactly how. He forgets to pay bills. The cleaning is always left for me. We haven't had sex for six years."

"Too much," I mutter.

"You both have wedding rings," Brenda says, noticing our hands. "How long have you been married?"

She looks to me first, so I answer, "Seventeen years."

Then Brenda sweeps her eyes over to Bex who just says, "Longer than her. She's my daughter-in-law."

"Wow," Brenda reacts, and she smiles at me hopefully. "Do you and your husband have any kids?"

"Yes, my wife and I do," I reply.

That makes her eyes brighten up like a light switch. "Oh, you're a lesbian? That's the trick to it. I should've married a woman, but ' _I loved him._ '" Her voice seems to mock herself.

"Well, love is a constant choice," I say. "It takes effort to keep it alive."

"Ugh, you sound like the fortune cookie from the Chinese food I ate last night. Wanna know why I ate that? Because Gerald didn't make dinner again."

"Maybe there's a reason he's not making dinner," I suggest. "Have you ever asked?"

"He should tell me," Brenda huffs.

"That method doesn't always work," Bex counters. "Marriages take work, I know. But maybe you need to try work things out. Do you still love him a little bit?"

"I suppose so," she grumbles.

"Then start talking to him," I say. "Communicate. Find that spark again that you're missing."

Brenda looks to me. "How do I do that?"

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

Cyrus is just putting a pan of potato wedges in the oven when I come over to ask, "Need any help?"

"Sure," he says, but he doesn't meet my eyes.

He goes into the pantry to grab some spices for the cooking, but I don't move yet.

"Anything in particular you need help with?"

"Just anything," he replies.

That's all it takes to push me over the edge. He's clearly upset, and I can never stand that for long. Cyrus is supposed to be happy. That's just a plain fact of life. If he's not happy, I'm stressed, and I don't handle stress well.

"Cyrus, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replies as he sets the spices on the counter. "I'm totally okay."

"It doesn't feel like it," I respond. "Is this about earlier? Because I said I was sorry."

Cyrus turns to face me, saying, "I know. I know you're sorry, and I forgive you."

"Then what's going on?"

He sighs and begins his confession. "Okay, sometimes it just feels like you don't listen."

"What? That's crazy."

"Is it?" he challenges. "Because last week I asked you to take out the garbage, and you said you would, and then before that, I asked you to make sure Wyatt brought that family of frogs back to the park, and that didn't happen either."

"I have no recollection of you asking those things," I argue.

"You were watching the basketball game both times," Cyrus explains.

Now I feel bad.

"Oh," I mumble.

"And I don't have anything against you watching that obviously," Cyrus continues, "but when I talk to you, it'd be nice if you'd listen to me."

"I do want to listen to you," I say. "I guess I just get kinda wrapped up."

"I've noticed."

"Okay, from now on, if I'm not listening, you can turn off the TV," I offer.

Cyrus smiles. "That works."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

Uncle Jonah and Uncle Walker are talking by the island as I come up to the kitchen to get a cookie. Yes, the cookie tastes delightful, but as I finish chewing and notice Uncle Walker step away from Uncle Jonah for a moment to go join my parents, my other motive activates, and I round the island to approach Uncle Jonah directly.

"Uncle Jonah, could I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure," he replies with a smile. "What about?"

I glance around. TJ and Cyrus are close by, cooking. My parents are also within earshot, and Auntie Andi just has the tendency to find out things people don't want her to.

"Any chance we could go somewhere else?"

Although surprised by the request, he agrees, "Uh, sure."

Since the downstairs is occupied, I choose the upstairs, except all the rooms up here are bedrooms I can't go in, and talking in the bathroom would surely be odd, so I sit down at the top of the stairs, and Jonah lowers down next to me.

"What's up?" he asks.

Although I've already pondered over how to phrase this for several days, actually saying the words is far more difficult. Logically, I know that makes no sense. He wouldn't judge me. None of my family would. But school is another story.

"Jonah, how did you know you liked boys?"

"Boys are hot," he says without a single second to think. But then he adds, "It took me a while to figure it out, though. I always thought I couldn't like guys, because I liked girls, but when I was fifteen, I started taking those Buzzfeed quizzes, and I more about what bisexuality was, and I realized it fit pretty well."

Buzzfeed quizzes. I've made a promise to myself to not take those, purely to resist that mindless teen media outlet. But if I didn't clear my search history constantly, it would certainly have a lot of articles about how to know if you're gay. Still, nothing is better than talking directly to someone who has experienced what you desire to learn about, and Jonah is the best option, for he doesn't stretch situations into bigger deals than they are.

"You were fifteen, huh?" I utter. "Did you ever think anything was different before that?"

"Sure. I just didn't have the vocabulary for it yet."

"Well, I have a big vocabulary," I mumble.

"I know," Jonah respond with a chuckle. "I only understand, like, half the words you say sometimes."

I know all the words. I know all the labels. Sometimes knowing all that doesn't make it easier. It only makes it harder to pick one. If I'm completely honest, I know the word already. I have a label. But saying it... Once I say it, I can't retract it. That will be it.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

"I haven't been a good wife!"

Brenda's sobs render all Bex's effort useless, because the colours are streaking down her face with her tears, turning her cheeks into a painting. But on the bright side, I think we might've solved Brenda's life for her.

"I haven't been around to talk to him. He only started going golfing with Marsha because I didn't want to go."

"Maybe it's time to try golfing," I say.

"You're right," she cries. "I'm going to fix things with my husband...right after I seduce his boss to save his job."

_Well, um...okay..._

"Cool," I mutter.

Having made her plan, Brenda now becomes aware of her appearance, and she touches her tear-stained face as she looks in the mirror.

"Oh, I smudged it with my crying," she whimpers.

"It's okay," Bex says. "We can do it again."

We're already half and hour overtime, so what's another hour, right? I sigh internally.

"Thank you," the woman cries.

"Okay, but you have to stop crying," Bex tells her.

"Oh, yes, of course."

She sniffles and sits up straight only to spill a few more tears soon after.

"Okay, just get it all out first," Bex says.


	48. S2 E3.3: Makeup Your Mind

**Jayda's POV**

Maybe it's just because all my friends are kinda fake as hell—which I can't blame them for, since I am too—but in comparison, Oceana is, like, actually really cool. We haven't stopped talking this whole time. Andreas doesn't really talk, but he's here, sitting on a chair near the couch which Oceana and I occupy. I mean, we are talking about embarrassing Andreas stories, but they're all lowkey cute, and she's smiling, so I don't see a problem.

"Then there was this time when Andreas got so mad at his parents for taking away his gaming system that he lived in the playhouse in his backyard for four days."

"Oh my gosh," Oceana reacts, laughing.

"Tell me about it. And for a whole year, he refused to drink plain water, because he thought it was just wet air, and that grossed him out."

The two of us laugh again, but Andreas interrupts after a moment, saying, "Jayda, can I talk to you upstairs?"

"Uh, sure?" I stand up but look back at Oceana to say, "I'll be right back."

She smiles, and Andreas starts walking upstairs, so I follow.

**Andreas's POV**

Once in the living room, away from everyone downstairs and everyone in the kitchen, I turn around to face Jayda, and she looks completely clueless.

"Jayda, can you stop telling all those embarrassing stories?"

"They're not embarrassing—okay a little embarrassing, but who cares? It's all past."

She crosses her arms and stands with one hip out, like I'm overreacting, but she just doesn't get it.

"You're ruining it with Oceana," I tell her.

"How?"

"Because you're making me look stupid," I argue.

"No, I'm not. I'm making you look like a normal human being."

"Girls don't see me as a normal human. I'm cool and charming, not real."

"Andreas, you're being so stupid right now," she says with an eye-roll. "You're not all that, so stop acting like you are."

All of a sudden, Oceana's voice interrupts, asking, "Can I step in?"

Both of us whirl our eyes to her, and I wonder how long she's been here for. Jayda backs away, going down around toward the kitchen, giving Oceana and I space. When Oceana looks at me, she has a gentle smile on her face that eases my nerves a bit, although I still wish I could go back and un-invite her to this.

"Don't get mad at Jayda," she says. "She didn't ruin anything. Actually, I liked hearing all those stories. You don't open up a lot."

"Not just with you," I assure her.

"Andreas, I like you, so you don't need to pretend to be something you're not. I like dating real boys, not fake ones."

That makes me laugh a little, and after just looking at each other for a moment, her eyes fall down to my lips.

**Jayda's POV**

When he kisses her, I look away, feeling weird about eavesdropping, and just about seeing them kiss. As soon as I shift my eyes away, I realize Hazel is standing by me. I don't know how long she's been there for, but the fact that she's scared me also makes me annoyed.

"God. Do you knock?" I bark.

"There's no door," Hazel responds. "Jayda, you're in a hallway."

"Whatever," I mumble and step the rest of the way into the kitchen and dining room area where the adults are talking.

**Buffy's POV**

Right as Andi finishes her thought, I notice Jonah come back into the kitchen. I saw him leave with Brayden a while ago, and now with him back, I feel compelled to tell him what's going on with him. If Brayden trusts Jonah, then maybe Jonah can help him. I step away from Marty and Andi and walk past Jayda, Hazel, Andreas, and Oceana, who are all heading for the island to get snacks, then I stop at Jonah.

"Hey, what were you and Brayden talking about?" I ask.

"Um, just personal stuff," he answers.

"Did he mention anything about his bullies?"

He just looks confused at that. "Brayden's being bullied?"

Jonah's voice is so loud that TJ hears him and says in surprise, "Brayden's being bullied?"

"What?" says Andi next.

The whole room is alert now, and of course in the middle of everyone's concern, Brayden has to walk back into the room. Instantly, all looks go to him, and Brayden's befuddlement changes to anger as he makes his own assumption as to what happened.

"I step out of the room for one second to tell my friend how to do a proper fishtail braid, and you tell everybody I'm gay!" he shouts at Jonah.

Before we can explain that that's not what happened, he runs back out of the room and upstairs again. Nobody speaks until Andreas breaks the tension.

"We're seriously gonna act like we didn't all know he was gay?" Andreas says.

Turning back to Jonah, I say, "You should go talk to him."

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"Shouldn't someone else?" he questions. "Like someone who's talked to kids during stuff like this. Maybe Cyrus or TJ?"

"You should talk to him, Jonah," Walker joins in. "He trusts you."

"But I'm—"

"You'll do fine," Walker insists. "Just say what you think you should."

Jonah finally nods, replying, "Okay."

**Jonah's POV**

Brayden is at the top of the stairs again. I don't know which one of us is more nervous. Here I am trying to comfort a kid that I helped watch since he was a baby, but this time feels different. I can't just screw it up and get over it, because I'm supposed to be getting a kid of my own soon. I need to be able to do this.

"So," I start, "I didn't tell them you were gay. Your mom mentioned that you were being bullied."

Brayden sits in silence for a minute before mumbling, "Oh."

"Yeah."

I don't say anything else, because it seems like he wants to talk, so I wait, and eventually he does.

"I'm pretty sure I'm gay," he utters.

"Cool. Welcome to the family."

That makes him smile, which gives me a little reassurance. If I can make him smile, then it can't be so hard to make another little kid smile.

"Who are these bullies?" I ask.

"Just some boys," Brayden answers. "They started teasing me because they thought I sounded gay. I don't have anything against sounding gay, but they do. I don't know why. It's completely daft if you ask me. The worst one is Deion King. He really doesn't like me."

"Hey, it has nothing to do with you," I assure him. "He's just close-minded. Don't let what he thinks affect you, because you're better than that. Be gay, do crime."

"Probably not what my mom would want you to say," Brayden replies with a little chuckle.

"Well, you're not actually gonna do crime, so I'm not worried."

Brayden smiles and nods, and after a moment of a bit more pondering, he says, "Thanks."

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

It's way past the end of my shift when we've finally finished with the customer and sent her on her way. After cleaning up the store, I grab my purse, excited to get going.

"Maybe we should turn this place into a life coaching business," Bex says, and I laugh.

"I'm down," I respond. "But I think we need, like, actual qualifications for that."

"I guess," she agrees with a chuckle. "Anyway, have fun at your dinner."

I smile and turn to head for the door, but then I pause and spin around again.

"Bex, TJ's my brother, which makes him, like, your daughter-in-law's brother in—cousin—uh... I think there's some kind of relation there, so you should come."

"Really? Oh, yay! I'll call Bowie."

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

So Oceana and I are just as strong as before. Jayda didn't ruin anything. I guess I was overreacting. Maybe it's cause I'm used to really superficial, shallow girls, but Oceana's not like that. Later into the night, I pull Jayda aside again into the living room, because I feel bad for lashing out earlier. She stands before me, her brown eyes waiting for an explanation of why I wanted her alone. For a second, I forget why too, but then it comes back to me.

"I just wanted to apologize," I say, "for getting mad at you. Apparently Oceana wasn't turned off by all that weird stuff you told her about me."

Jayda folds her arms, responding, "Yeah, well, you're less repulsive than you think."

I laugh and look down for a moment, resulting in a couple of my usually parted brown curls to fall over my face. When I look back up to her again, I flick my head to get them back to the side, and Jayda's still looking straight at me.

"That's a very Jayda compliment of you," I respond.

She smiles and adds, "Also, your girlfriend is kind of really cool, so that helps."

Is it bad that I forgot about the whole girlfriend thing for a moment until she said that? I don't even realize how long I've been just looking at Jayda until she breaks her eyes downward and starts to speak.

"Um..."

Whatever she is about to say is shut down by the front door opening, which makes us both turn our attention there, where Amber comes in along with Bex and Bowie."

At the exact same time, Jayda and I both say, "Hi," and then we glance at each other, spooked by the occurrence.

"I'm not too late, am I?" Amber asks.

Entering the room, Cyrus answers, "We're just having dinner now. Come join."

They all go into the kitchen and dining room, and Jayda and I turn to each other once more.

"Uh, dinner?" she says.

"Yeah, uh—" I motion her forth "—after you."

"The hallway is wide enough for both of us," she reminds me.

"Yeah, uh, right," I remember.

Even after having agreed to walk, it takes me another minute to remember how to move. As we step through the hall side by side, I feel a kind of friction in the air. The closer I get to being around everyone else, the more I feel like I just want to be back in the living room with Jayda. Jayda smiles as we enter in, but I don't realize until I get my eyes off of her that she's smiling at Oceana who's waving to us. When she goes over to talk to my girlfriend, I do the same, but that friction stays, and I just wait for it go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for this episode. I hope you liked it. Yesterday was Summerween! I hope it was good for all of you. I'll see you soon with the next episode.


	49. S2 E4.1: 40

**Amber's POV**

Hazel finishes taping up the shiny sign on the wall right as Andi comes trudging into the kitchen. Her sleepy eyes shock open as she sees the birthday sign, and Hazel stands smiling, waiting for the rest of her mom's reaction.

"Oh, look," Andi says. "Forty."

Those numerals stands out the most across the sign that reads 'Happy 40th Birthday.' They also appear to be the most off-putting for Andi who quickly pivots to turns into the kitchen where she pours herself a glass of orange juice and chugs it back.

"Happy birthday," I say, trying to lift her clearly rocky mood, but unfortunately Hazel doesn't notice it.

"How does it feel to be one year closer to dying?" she asks.

"Hazel," I hiss.

"I'm kidding," she responds. "She could die at any time. Age doesn't affect that."

"Great," Andi cuts in, her tone tense. "It's great."

Hazel nods and comes into the kitchen by her mom as she says, "I love when people say great when they obviously don't mean it."

"I'm perfectly awesome," Andi insists in a voice no more believable than before. "I'm going to be even more awesome when our friends get here to celebrate. Until then, um, I'm going to work on my art."

She takes her juice glass with her down the hall toward her studio, leaving me with Hazel in the bleak atmosphere of the room she's left behind.

"Well," hazel sighs, "I have to go to school, but let me know if you figure out what's wrong with Mommy."

She grabs her backpack and heads for the door, giving me a wave before locking herself out.

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

If humans weren't already lab rats for society, the bell surely proves otherwise. We are free. Are we? Are we free when a simple ring makes people scatter to go fill their brains with more propaganda for how to think like the norm, how to be regular, how to shut up and go along with society. I and my twenty-five other classmates who sit down in the history room all do so because there is no other alternative. If one were to choose to not stay, where would they go? Well, they would be an outcast. They would lose the support of their peers, the conditional love that is conform or leave. Because to not conform is to break the law, but when every single piece of grass, every stone, every wave is owned by someone, where does someone who doesn't want to lean back into the mould go? Nowhere. So they stay.

I like history class, I do. But I'm not oblivious to the conscious construction of our past that our textbooks communicate. Hence why I do much of my learning outside of the classroom, away from typical materials. Currently, I'm learning about some history of the Southern Paiute people. That book lays open on my desk while my friends in the desks directly in front of me and left of me talk about their typical carefree things.

"I love your braid," Linny says. "What kind is that?"

"I think it's a Dutch braid," Kelsey replies, sweeping her hair over her shoulder to get a better look.

"No, a Dutch braid is like an inside out French braid," Linny says.

"Then maybe it's a Spanish braid," Kelsey suggests, "or a Canadian braid?"

"I don't think there's such a thing," Linny says.

Right on cue, they both look to me, as they always do to settle their disagreements. They know that if anyone knows, it's me.

"You are correct. There is not such a thing. Kelsey, your braid isn't a braid. It's just the ponytail with multiple hair ties that Jasmine from Aladdin has."

Both girls look bewildered as they examine Kelsey's hair again. I turn my head back to my book, but as I do, a body passing by my desk knocks it off the table and onto the floor. Before doing anything, I look up and see the face of my bully, Deion. He has his hands in his worn-in jeans like he's too cool for history class, and a smirk on his face like he's too cool for me.

"Whoops," he says in an insincere tone. "Sorry, Gayden."

He carries on toward the back of the classroom, while Kelsey bends down to pick up my book for me.

"What a jerk," she mumbles as she places the book on my desk.

"How can someone be so insecure as to taunt you like that," Linny joins in.

"It's despicable," Kelsey agrees.

"He does what he does to feel better," I say.

"He must hate himself," Kelsey states.

"How tragic that a soul be so torn as to end up tearing at others," Linny adds.

"It's alright," I say. "His words don't determine my self-worth."

"That's very big of you," Linny compliments. "On another note, would either of you want to go to The Spoon later?"

"I believe it's my Aunt's birthday today," I reply, "and I have to be home to watch my little sister while my parents are out."

"Darn," the girl responds. "Another day."

A tap on my shoulder makes me turn around to see my classmate holding out a folded paper note with my name on it.

"It's from Deion," the kid says.

My desk neighbour is innocent. He's only doing what he's supposed to do as a member of a class that passes notes before the teacher arrives to actually teach us. I take the note and turn around, opening it up while my friends watch curiously. The paper has nothing but the word "GAY" written in giant letters, but that's enough to make my friends upset.

"Rude," Kelsey huffs.

"And uncreative," I mutter. "There are far more colourful words he could use that would do more than just state a fact."

I consider sending the paper back to Deion with a large rainbow drawn over the word, but of course I'm not nearly confident enough to do that. That's one of those fantasies that I like to imagine but know will never actually occur. Another thing stopping me is Kelsey who steals the paper from my hands and rips it to shreds like the beautifully protective friend she is.

"Jerk," she mutters again.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

"Do we really need to to move everything out of here?" Jonah asks. "Can't we just put a crib in the corner and call it a bedroom? The baby will grow up with an appreciation for classic rock."

The two of us stand in the middle of his music room where he's always practiced since we moved in years ago. We already had this conversation earlier as to which room will become the baby's room, and we settled on this one, but now that we're actually cleaning it out, Jonah is more hesitant to let it go.

"You really want all your guitars, records, and collectable posters in a room with a baby, a creature that touches everything it sees?" I ask.

"Can't we put the baby in your studio instead?" he suggests.

"My studio's the only room with good enough ventilation for oil paints."

"Well, good ventilation would be good for changing diapers."

"Come on, Jonah. This room is mostly storage anyway, which can go in the basement."

"That's what all the bins are?" he says, looking around at the containers laying throughout the room. "I thought we were just too cheap to buy chairs."

I shake my head and step ahead to start taking one of the bins out.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

I step into Jayda's house with her after school, noticing only now the condition of her pink, jean skirt.

"Did you cut that yourself or buy it like that?" I ask.

She glances down before replying, "Bought it."

"It's not properly hemmed."

"It's a raw edge," she states. "It's cute."

"Why would you pay for a skirt that isn't fully sewn?"

"The same reason you pay for a half-dyed shirt."

She starts down the hall toward the kitchen, and I look down at my tie-dyed shirt, feeling judged, but I guess we're even. After dropping my backpack and hoodie in the living room, I join Jayda in the kitchen, taking a seat on a stool at the island while she begins scouring the pantry.

"My dads aren't home yet, so feel free to eat whatever you want," she says.

"Thanks. I'll probably just wait to eat until I can come home again."

"Yeah, it's your mom's birthday, right?"

"Yup. I would be there, but Momma's trying to prepare for it, and I never like the smell of burnt cake."

"At least she has perseverance."

"Sure, but her perseverance is borderline insanity."

Jayda reaches for a blue box on a shelf in the pantry and lifts it up, asking, "Do you like Oreos?"

"I actually ate, like, six of those at lunch, so I think I'm done for the day," I reply.

She shrugs and grabs one cookie for herself before putting the container back on the shelf. Then she scurries over to the fridge, leaving the pantry door wide open.

"Did you have cantaloupe?" she wonders.

"Uh, yeah," I say in shock. "Did you see me at lunch?"

"No."

This must be a coincidence, but it's so peculiar that I can't let go of it.

"Then how did you know what I ate?"

"Duh," she says, giving me a look like the answer is obvious. "I'm psychic, remember?"

Not possible. She's just extremely lucky. But it's still strange enough that I think it's my scientific duty to look further.


	50. S2 E4.2: 40

**Brayden's POV**

I always walk past Red Rooster Records on my way home from school. Actually, usually I take the bus home, but sometimes I walk, even though it takes significantly longer. I just like being able to be outside with the air, unconcerned with time or deadlines, the things that restrict everyone else in cars so tightly. They're all trying to go somewhere. I'm just going, and somewhere I will eventually get. But there's no rush. Well, no literal rush. There is a lot of the band Rush inside Red Rooster, but of course I'm uninterested in that.

I enter into the store, becoming swept into the music of a guitar playing by the window where the lessons always happen, and I set my sights on the classical section of the records. While I flips through the selection, browsing even though I know I won't buy anything, for I've already invested much of my revenues from last year's business endeavours in stocks, my eyes wander over to Bowie teaching guitar to a boy. But it's not just any boy. It's Deion, recognizable by the fade of the back of his short, black hair, as well as by his dark skin, and the red T-shirt that was only peeking out underneath his black hoodie today but I now get to see fully.

I suppose my assumption was that he must be interested in more aggressive extracurriculars, like rugby or martial arts—or perhaps starting grass fires in the front yards of old ladies' homes. Any of those seem more suitable to his tastes than guitar. However, from what I can hear, he's actually fairly talented at the instrument.

For a minute, I pause to watch him play, but I eventually realize that my thumb has stopped on a pop-rock record in the display. _How embarrassing._ I quickly switch to the baroque compilations instead.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

When I peek into my wife's art studio, I almost get sprayed by the paint flying off Andi's brush as she splatters a sculpture of an ambiguous species of bird.

"Hey, how you doing?" I ask.

"Great," she replies still slapping the sculpture with her paintbrush.

"You've been in here all day," I say.

"Have I? Didn't notice."

"Andi, I know what you're doing."

"No," she says. "You can't, because I don't even know what I'm doing."

"You're doing exactly what I did when I turned forty."

She drops her brush down on the table before spinning around, shouting, "I am not! I have not had anything to drink, and I have not cried once."

"Not that. You're freaking out. Hiding away."

"Why would I do that?"

She puts her hand on her hip, getting a handprint of blue paint on her embroidered jeans. I step up to her to place my hands on her shoulders as I give her a gentle smile.

"Because you're turning forty," I say, "and it's scaring you."

"Okay, sure," she admits. "I'm kind of scared, because life is moving so fast, and it feels like I don't even have time to breathe, because even just breathing takes time, so really time just keeps making things disappear constantly."

"Well, I didn't think that deeply into it, but yeah."

"I'm sorry," Andi says, shaking her head. "It's my birthday. I should be happy. Our friends are coming over soon, and it's going to be awesome."

"Are you sure, because—"

"I'm sure," she insists. "It's going to be great." She raises her hands and takes a step back as she adds, "And I should wash this paint off before I track it all over the house."

She walks past me out of her studio, but I can still feel her lethargic attitude toward today.

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

I shouldn't still be here. It's been twenty minutes of me pretending to search through the same composers over and over, and I should definitely be leaving, but I keep repeating the process. Flip one cover, skip two, pause, again. The actions becomes quicker when I see Deion put down his guitar and stand up. I should go, but the analyst in me wants to understand what it is I'm seeing. When he starts walking in my direction, I turn to face the records. Flip, skip, pause, repeat. Flip, skip— _bump_. He bumps into me, but it's not on purpose.

"Watch where you're going..." his voice falls away when he realizes who I am, and I turn to face him.

The peculiar thing about seeing a bully out of school is it's like seeing a lion in the arctic. As much as I should be scared, the juxtaposition of this image—a virile boy in a bohemian music shop with a chicken on the front of it—makes him decidedly less intimidating.

"I believe you were the one walking, so you should watch where you're going," I correct him.

I definitely shouldn't feel as confident as I do, and Deion is surprised by my confidence too, but he blows it off and keeps walking. However, I don't want to let it go quite yet.

"I didn't know you played guitar," I say.

He turns back around, responding, "Yeah, well...whatever."

"How long have you played?"

Then he barks, "Why are you even talking to me, Gayden?"

He keeps walking away, and I nod to myself, knowing it was only a matter of time before his colours showed through. Still, that conversation still lasted longer than I thought it would.

"Because I made the ludicrous assumption that you had a heart," I mutter, even though he can't hear me. "My mistake."

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

We're about halfway done emptying the room. All my music stuff is out, so all we have left are the boxes of stored items. I've gotten through a few of them already, but when I grab one blue bin, I'm unprepared for the amount of effort it takes to lift it up. Curious, I lift the lid off, finding a ton of old photo albums which are creating the weight, but on top of them is a stuffed animal that brings back a memory as vivid as the sun.

"Hey, Walker, check this out."

"I'm good, thanks."

"No, it's not another mouldy squash. It's that deerctopus I won for you back in college."

I lift the stuffed creature out of its bucket. It has the head of a deer and the body of an octopus with little sweatbands on each tentacle to make it look athletic.

"Oh, yeah," Walker responds, coming over to see. "The University of Shadyside really needed a better mascot."

"But that carnival was fun."

"Yeah."

He takes the animal from me and examines it with a smile.

"Maybe we should keep this up here," I suggest, "you know, for the baby."

"I think it might give them nightmares."

"It'll make them tough."

I clutch the deerctopus from Walker's hands and place it against the wall on the floor, and Walker watches with a smile.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Jayda lacks the focus I have as she sits at the dining room table with one leg up on the neighbouring chair and her phone close to her face. Meanwhile, I have my deck of cards laid across the table, carrying on with my experiment regardless of her failed interest. I reach for a random card and take it from the deck.

"Okay, what card am I holding?" I ask.

"I don't know," she grumbles. "Twelve of stars?"

"Jayda, have you ever seen a deck of cards?" I question.

"Of course," she retorts.

"Name one card you know."

Without a single pause, she replies, "Credit."

"Wow," I exhale in pure, flabbergasted wonder. "You amaze me."

"Sorry, can you repeat the question?" Jayda asks, flicking her eyes up from her phone.

I just shake my head and say, "Let's try the die."

"You want to kill me?" Jayda exclaims. "I didn't think I was doing that bad."

Trying to contain my annoyance with her, I pick up the tiny cube and shake it around in my hands. I flatten my palms together to stop it and hold them horizontally to ensure the die doesn't chance sides.

"Okay, what number is on the die?" I ask.

"Wait, you number your murders?"

"Jayda," I huff, "you need to pay attention if this is going to work."

"I don't really care," she responds. "What are you trying to prove anyway?"

"That you're psychic, but that was always stupid," I accept. "It's all just lots of coincidences."

As I let out a breath of defeat, Jayda's brother walks past, going for the kitchen, but he stops to look at my closed hands for a moment on his way.

"Did you roll a six?" he asks.

My subconscious makes my head shake in disbelief as I open my hands to see six dots on the top of the die.

"What the—?" I cut myself short, remembering that I can't swear in front of Wyatt. "You do it too?"

"Do what?"

"You know things you shouldn't," I answer.

"Yeah, I got in trouble for that in health class last year," Wyatt responds.

"She's talking about other things you shouldn't know," Jayda corrects him.

"Wyatt," I order, "sit down beside your sister."

He plops down into the chair next to Jayda, and the two of them give each other nods of greeting, while I get my cards shuffled again.


	51. S2 E4.3: 40

**Jonah's POV**

With my eyes open, the room is now empty, save for the stuffed deerctopus on the carpet. There's nothing but blank walls and a window with blinds that let the sunlight of the evening shine through. But with my eyes closed, there's a shelf of children's books and picture frames. There are baby clothes on the ground that I likely tossed there and forgot to put away. There's a crib and a nightlight that radiates a faint glow over the shadow of night. There's so much that this little room can be.

I have my arm around Walker's shoulder while his holds my waist, and we gaze around at the emptiness with smiles powered by hopeful thoughts and wishes.

"You were right about this room," I say. "It's gonna make a good bedroom."

"Do you think we cleaned it out too early?" Walker asks after another moment. "I mean, we haven't even been matched with a baby yet."

"Definitely," I reply, "but we're gonna get a baby, right?"

A pointless question, because he doesn't know the answer any more than I do. But I always believe him, so hearing him say it gives me more faith.

"Yeah," he utters softly. "We have to."

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Both siblings look bored as they sit at the table, Jayda on her phone and Wyatt with his chin on his arms on the table.

"Okay, what card is it this time?" I ask

I hold the card downward to keep either of them from seeing it

"Four of clubs," Wyatt answers.

I shake my head. "No. It's—" I lift the card up again to see that it actually is the four of clubs, but I swear it was the eight of diamonds before. "Wait. Where's the—?"

Wyatt brings his hand up from under his chin, holding up the eight of diamonds I'd somehow lost. I'm in complete shock, but Wyatt is so casual as he explains himself.

"I'm a magician now."

While I'm still trying to figure out how he did that, Uncle Cyrus gets home from work and comes into the kitchen. When he sees us, he gives us a smile.

"Hi. Uh, what's going on here?"

"Your kids are challenging everything I know about how the human brain works," I reply.

"Strangely enough, you're not the first person to say that," Cyrus says, "although the rest were all teachers."

"She's shook because we're psychic," Jayda says, pulling her eyes up from her phone for another brief second.

"You're not psychic," Cyrus denies.

"Then explain how I know that you're buying me a car for my birthday," Jayda says.

"That's not happening."

"Well, damn."

"Hazel," Wyatt speaks up, "some things are just meant to stay mysteries."

"Psychological discoveries don't get discovered by letting mysteries stay mysteries," I reply.

"No," Jayda rejoinders, "but Buzzfeed Unsolved is doing pretty well."

"Me and my sister have a special talent," Wyatt goes on, "and you just don't. Now, I'm gonna go poop."

He stands up and saunters out of the dining room. Uncle Cyrus watches for a moment with a concerned face before sighing and carrying on with his business, heading into the basement. Now it's just me and Jayda, and she looks ready to move on too as she lowers her phone and leans forward on her elbows, sighing.

"So I think today we learned that my psychic powers can't be controlled," she concludes. "They happen when they happen. So if you wanted me to tell you something like if a boy likes you or whatever then you need to let my mind work on its own clock."

"If anything, today proved that you are not psychic," I retort, "and it's all just a bunch of coincidences. Also, I don't care if a boy likes me. I'm a lesbian."

Jayda tilts her head, looking unsure about that. "You're gay? Not, like, something in the middle?"

"No," I assure her. "Maybe you're something in the middle."

She laughs lightly, replying, "I'm straight as...I don't know, a pencil or something?"

I narrow my eyes. "There are bendy pencils."

"Not ones that write well."

"They don't have to write well."

"Who's the psychic one here?" she snaps.

"Neither of us! You are not psychic!"

She pushes herself onto her feet and crosses her arms, saying, "Right. By the way, tell Aimee her pink hair looks super cute."

She starts to walk away when I respond in shock, "How did you know she dyed her hair?"

"Psychic," she whispers.

She steps around the wall to go down the hall toward the upstairs, but that's when I notice that my phone is lit up on the table with a text.

"No!" I shout. "She just texted saying her dad hates her pink hair!"

"Whatever!" Jayda yells back.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

I enter the kitchen to see my wife leaning on the island as she peels the paper off a carrot muffin. She goes slow, like there's no reason to rush it. Her melancholy face worries me most.

"Our friends should be here soon," I say.

"Great," she responds, forcing her voice to sound happy in a way that's like trying to get the last of the juice out of a dying battery.

"Andi," I say, "turning forty doesn't have to be scary. You're going into a new time with new experiences and adventures. Who knows what will happen with you and your career, with our daughter, or with us?"

"I know, but..." she takes a moment to get her thoughts together. "Remember when we were teenagers, and we used to go out to the edge of the city and look at the stars, just us and nothing to think about except your math test that next day that you were going to fail anyway?"

How could I ever forget. I'd shut off my engine outside her place to avoid waking her parents while she snuck out to join me. And the windows were always down. It could be the middle of January. We still kept them down, and I got to watch the breeze flutter her pixie hair. There was no real reason why we had to sneak out. Her parents were fine with us being together. But she said she liked rom-coms, and I liked adventures, so we made our lives into a movie that I wanted to watch every night.

"I remember."

"The older I get, the farther those times feel," Andi says. "And they're not coming back."

"You may be forty, but you don't have to be _forty_ just yet," I respond.

"What do you mean?"

I pause, hearing a new plan wire itself into my mind in an instant.

"Get your jacket, and meet me at the car," I say with a grin.

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

When I open the door to my home, my parents are already putting on their shoes and coats to leave.

"Brayden, what took you so long?" my dad asks.

Well, other than spending too long pretending to care about sundry music genres after having run out of classical albums to flip through—although I am acquiring a new taste for jazz—all to stay and observe my bully in the safe space that is Red Rooster Records, I think I just walked slower getting home too because I was pondering.

"Selecting the right classical composition was an strenuous task," I reply. I'm hoping he won't notice that I don't have a purchased record in my backpack, and thankfully he doesn't care to check.

"Yeah, they all sound the same to me too," Dad says.

I want to debate that, but I also don't want to hold up my parents any longer.

"Anyway," Mom says, "we're heading out now. I've hidden all the lighters so that Cara can't find them, but if there are any issues, call us."

"Of course," I agree.

My mom reaches for the doorknob, but right as she touches it, she gets a text on her phone and turns back around, removing her coat that she'd just put on.

"Never mind," she says. "Party's cancelled."

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

I like listening to Amber's breath over the sound of the breeze and the crickets of dusk. After finding dinner at a taco truck in a random neighbourhood, we ended up here, on the edge of town, parked just off the road so that our car is surrounded by tall flowers that are slowly starting to wither as autumn approaches. Her hair lies over my arm as my hand links with hers, and the two of us lie here on the roof of the Honda, staring up at the wide open sky above us. Red singes the horizon as the last of the sun sinks below the earth, and the galaxy takes over.

"Look!" Amber says all of a sudden. "A shooting Star!"

"That's a plane," I respond, spotting where's she's pointing.

"Oh, that makes more sense."

"And it explains why your shooting star is blue and blinking."

She giggles a little before letting us return back into the quiet night.

"This is perfect," I whisper. "I missed doing this."

"Why did we stop?" Amber wonders.

"I don't know."

"Let's start again."

I smile at that and let my face tilt in her direction. I stay like that as she eventually notices me staring and matches my gaze.

"You know what else we used to do," I say.

My lips attract to hers like a current drawing us together. For a moment when we kiss, it feels like we're seventeen again, and there are fireworks in our pulses that light us up through closed eyes. But in a way it's even better that I'm not seventeen, because it means my entire life with her was real, and it's still bursting colour every time we touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Things are gonna get wild from here on, and I hope you're excited. Also, I've got my plan for season 3. I think I'll only have 3 seasons of this, but we'll see. Maybe I'll be inspired and want to keep going. Have a good day! I love you all!


	52. S2 E5.1: Superheroes

**Buffy's POV**

Cara and Andreas are already sitting at the table and eating their leftover pasta for lunch when Brayden enters the kitchen with a pamphlet open and his eyes scanning it across. He passes by me and Marty at the island and stops to ask us a question.

"Mom, Dad, have you gotten the shingles vaccine yet?"

"Brayden, how old do you think we are?" I respond.

From the table, Andreas asks his brother, "What are you reading?"

Brayden goes over to sit down in his chair replying, "I got this pamphlet on vaccinations from my school's health and wellness fair last week, and I don't remember getting as many needles as it says here I should've."

Marty shadows me as I go over to check the list of vaccines on the blue and white paper. I recognize every one of those and can recall bringing Brayden in. Actually, I think he signed himself up to get a few of them when he was little.

"No, you were vaccinated for all those," I say.

"If you weren't, you'd probably be with Wyatt's rabbit," Andreas comments.

Marty turns toward the smirking teenager, saying, "Shouldn't you get going? I thought you were meeting up with Oceana at 12:00."

"I am," Andreas responds.

"It's 12:13," I tell him.

"Shit." Andreas drops his fork and blasts out of the kitchen.

"No swearing!" I call out.

"Sorry!"

He flings open the door and leaves, his shoes only half on his feet. Brayden remains focused on his pamphlet, not bothered in the slightest by his brother's departure.

"Are you sure I'm not missing a vaccination?" he checks again.

"Like Andreas said," Marty replies, "you're not dead yet, so that's hopeful."

"What's a vaccination?" Cara chimes in.

"They're needles you get to protect you from getting certain illnesses," I explain.

"Did I get them?" she asks.

"Yes, of course."

"Let's check," Brayden says, and then he begins listing each vaccination. "Tetanus."

Marty and I both nod.

"Diphtheria."

Nod.

"Whooping cough."

Nod.

"Polio."

Nod.

"Hepatitis A."

... I look at Marty, but he just looks back. I don't specifically remember Cara getting that one.

"And we found the one," Brayden concludes.

I can't believe we forgot a vaccination for her. I guess by the third kid, everything just becomes so automatic that you forget the simple things like vaccinations and night lights and the fact that they shouldn't watch horror movies yet.

"Well, Cara," I say, "guess what we're doing today."

"I don't want to get a needle!" Cara shouts, getting worked up instantaneously.

"Would you rather get hepatitis A?" Brayden counters.

"No, you don't have a choice," I cut in. "We're going."

"Brayden always has to ruin everything," Cara pouts.

"Yes," Brayden sighs. "I'm aware."

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

Wyatt sits at the kitchen table working on a lego battleship while Cyrus and I wait at the island, but we don't have to wait long, because Amber, Andi, and Hazel let themselves into our home and come moseying into the kitchen without invitation. Amber looks about as annoyed as I am. Maybe more. Andi looks just as confused and Cyrus does. Neither one takes the cake for that.

"Good," I breath. "You're here. You were always mom's favorite, so this should be easier."

"She told you guys that?" Andi says in shock.

"She believed in openness and honesty at all times," I explain.

"But she didn't believe in giving notice," Amber grumbles.

Amber drops her purse down on the counter with a smack before whirling around the island to take a seat on one of the stools with Andi across from Cyrus and me, while Hazel stays on the side, just observing.

"Nothing to say I love you like a text at 3:00 AM saying she's stopping by for the day to see us," I say sarcastically.

Wyatt's voice makes all four of us look over at him as he questions, "How come she can show up unannounced, but you get mad at me when I do that with my friends?"

"Because your friends are never human," Cyrus replies.

"When you're sixty-three with grandkids and only wear sandals even in the snow, you can do whatever you want," I tell him.

"If you do do that," Hazel speaks up, "please don't wear socks too."

After she finishes talking is when my own daughter enters from the hallway with that determined look on her face like she's about to start focusing her brain for a long time. Of course, that could be fifteen minutes or five hours. For Jayda, it doesn't take much to overwhelm her.

"Okay," she announces. "Nobody talk to me today. I've got a date later, and I need to figure out how to get my hair to form a ringlet without being burnt off by the curling iron before it agrees to stay in.

"You're not staying to visit with your grandma?" Cyrus responds.

Jayda looks caught off guard by the news. "Since when is grandma coming?"

"Oh, we forgot to tell you," Cyrus says. "Grandma's coming."

"Oh," Jayda replies, clenching her teeth. "Awesome. I'll go make sure my bedroom door is closed before she sees it and tries to rearranges everything to make the energy flow better."

She spins around and stomps out of the kitchen in annoyance.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Jonah sits down on the living room couch while I uncap my felt pen and open the coiled notebook I got out just for this occasion.

"Okay," I begin, "so I'm thinking we just think of names without worrying about a gender, because names are just letters, and assigning genders to letters is a little—"

"Wack?"

"Yes."

"I agree," Jonah responds, although I have a feeling he doesn't have very strong feelings about that anyway, so this should be a walk in the park. "Let's just throw around some ideas and see what we like."

Neither of us have thought of any names yet, and I haven't really spent time thinking about it either. We still have lots of time to decide this, but we realized this morning that the longer we wait, the closer we get to getting a call and having a baby without a name, so we felt like we should just get this out of the way now.

"Do you have any names you like?" Jonah asks me.

"I was thinking possibly some names of artists who inspire me."

"Okay, shoot."

"Georgia," I suggest.

"You want our kid named after a red state?"

"Fair point," I say. "Wassily."

Jonah shakes his head. "Too many options for bullies to choose from."

"Well, do you have any ideas?"

"I don't know," he responds with a shrug. "My mom's name is Judy."

"I love you mom and all, but nobody under fifty is named Judy."

"Fair enough."

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

Oceana's hand is soft, but I can feel the cold metal of her rings with her fingers laced through mine as we walk down the sidewalk. It's a little weird. I've never actually been at the hand-holding part of a relationship before her, but I don't mind it. It is a little sweaty, though, but the October wind keeps it from getting too hot.

"Hey," she says as she notices a house to our left, "isn't that your not-actually-related-cousin's house?"

I honestly couldn't tell you whether it was on accident or purpose that we end up walking down this street with this house right now, but seeing it, I kind of want to take a detour. I haven't really talked to Jayda in a while. We run in different circles at school, so we don't get to hang out just us that often. I know Oceana being here makes it not just us, but it's as close to that as I can get it without feeling awkward calling her to see her.

"Oh, yeah, it is," I reply with a smile. "Hey, since we're here, we should stop by to say hello."

"Uh, sure," Oceana agrees. "I suppose the park never closes."

"Cool."

I pull her up the walkway to the door and ring the bell, but to my surprise, the person who answers it isn't someone who lives here. It's Hazel. Come to think of it, I probably shouldn't be surprised, since her moms' car is parked in front.

"Oh, you're not my Grandma Kippen," she says.

"I'm not," I reply. "I believe I'm missing a flower crown and a bag of birdseed for that."

I haven't met Hazel's grandma before, but I've heard many stories about her, so I have a pretty good idea of what I would need to be like her, and to put it simply, it's not really my vibe

"And you're not Jayda," I state.

"No," she responds with a laugh. "I'm missing a second ear piercing and a really tight skirt for that."

Suddenly, the girl I'm looking for comes down the stairs, looking at me and Oceana in puzzlement.

"Andreas and Oceana? What are you doing here?"

"Uh, we were just stopping by to say hello," I answer. Then I look down at her forearm which is smudged with rows of sparkly pigment. "What's with the lines of glitter on your arm?"

She steps down onto the floor as she explains, "I'm going on a date soon, and I haven't done that in months, so I'm kind of stressing about which colour eyeshadow I should choose."

"I like the plum colour," Oceana says, taking a step forward to look. "It'd look great on you."

"Thanks," Jayda responds with a smile. "Hey, if you have time, would you mind helping me pick a lipstick too?"

"I'd love to," Oceana says. "Actually, I'd be happy to help you with it all. My mom's a makeup artist, so I know a bit."

"That would be great."

"Oh, cool," I say, my voice accidentally sounding dull. "I'll just stay here and talk with Hazel."

Not my original goal, but I guess I haven't seem Hazel in a while either, so it's fine. Right?

Jayda and Oceana exchange excited looks and are about to ascend the stairs together when the front door swings open again, and we all look to see a woman in a flowing, earth-toned gown with frizzy, with white hair and a shrivelled flower behind her ear. She probably forgot it was there. It doesn't look like she's bathed in days either with her oily curls. Her arms open as though presenting herself to us as she smiles up at some unknown object just past our heads.

"Hello!" she chirps. "Jayda, Hazel, how wonderful to see you." Then she looks at me and Oceana. "Oh, they got more. Lovely."

"Oh, we're just friends," I explain.

"Oh, interesting."

She steps forward, and I have to split away from Oceana to let Hazel and Jayda's grandmother walk right through the centre of our group and toward the kitchen.

**TJ's POV**

There is no possible way to mistake my mother for anyone else. Her crooked-toothed smile and stance like she's constantly floating is part of her signature look. Her signiature greeting is the kiss on both cheeks that she gives me, Amber, and our spouses as she comes in. Then she sees Wyatt and releases a relieved breath, putting her hand over her heart.

"Oh, good," she says. "When I didn't see you, I thought they'd given you back."

Wyatt scrunches his eyebrows in worry. "They would do that?"

"No, we wouldn't," Cyrus quickly corrects.

"Oh, there's no shame," my mom tells Cyrus then looks at me and Amber. "Sometimes I needed a break from you kids too."

She lets out a musical laugh, while the rest of us just stand in discomfort.

"So, Mom," I speak up, "what brings you here...with less than a day's notice?"

"Oh, honey," she responds, touching my arm, "days are just abstract constructs created by society to tie us down."

"Debatable," Andi mumbles.

"See, I was on tour with the band," Mom explains, "and we were passing through Shadyside, so I figured I might as well stop by and see my babies."

She gives my shoulder and my sister's each an affectionate squeeze, but we're both stuck on the obvious question.

"You're in a band?" Amber says.

"Oh, no, my boyfriend is."

Without any of us asking, she pulls out a miniature photo album from her cross-body purse and begins showing us images of a young, muscly man who apparently never wears a shirt.

"Mom, how old is he?" Amber questions, examining the photos.

"Twenty-one," she answers.

"Oh, gross," Amber responds, her face wrinkled in disgust.

"What?" Mom says. "Age is just a number."

I lean over to Cyrus to say, "That's why we ate expired food all the time. We got food poisoning a lot as kids."

"And look at you two," she interrupts, "grown up to be strong, capable people."

As soon as she finishes that thought, her eyes bring her onto a new one as she catches sight of my dining room, specifically the art piece of a rural, prairie landscape that hangs over the antique cabinet.

"AJ, dear, this dining room is dull. Why didn't you pick a painting with more taste."

Amber follows my mom over to the dining room, replying, "This is TJ's house, Mom."

Cyrus looks to me as he whispers, "AJ?"

"That's what she called her," I explain.

"What's the J for?"

"Joni."

"I'm sorry," Cyrus says. "I'm not cultured enough to know which musician that's a reference to."

I smile at that and say, "Joni Mitchell."

"Still don't know," he responds.

"Well, TJ" my mother says, turning to face me, "if you want a better painting, I'm sure I could whip something up for you."

"No, thanks, Mom. Cyrus and I picked that out when we were moving in, so it has strong memories."

She sighs. "If only memories were visually appealing."

My mom takes the initiative to wind around the dining table and start lifting the painting off its nails on the wall. After a second of struggling, she glances back at my sister with a smile.

"AJ, dear, will you help me?"

Amber looks back at me in concern, and I just sigh.

"I'll just put it back up anyway," I say to her.

With my permission, Amber goes into the dining room and joins my mother in over-stepping her authority.


	53. S2 E5.2: Superheroes

**Buffy's POV**

The health centre waiting room smells sanitized, regardless of all the bodies sitting and waiting in the rows of seats. The clicking of a stapler at the desk is louder than all the repressed chatter of the patients, except for my own daughter who doesn't mind her volume at all. She squeezes the arms of her chair as she rocks back and forth, kicking the floor each time.

"Am I gonna die?" she asks.

"No," I answer. "You're not going to die."

"This is how zombie games start," the girl mumbles.

"Actually," Marty responds, "usually the vaccination is how they end."

"What if I'm already infected?" she worries.

"Then you can't get any worse," Marty justifies.

"Will it hurt?"

"It will be a little pinch," I tell her.

"What if I move? Will my arm fall off?"

"Don't move," I reply.

"What if I have to move?"

"You won't have to," I say.

"What if I have to pee?"

"Do you have to pee?" I question.

"No, but what if I have to?"

"Then go now," Marty replies.

Cara shakes her head. "I don't have to pee."

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

"Well, maybe we should rule out a few names first to make it easier," I suggest.

We both lie on opposite ends of the couch, staring up at the ceiling while contemplating. It's been a while of this, and the only thing we have written in our notebook is KFC, because that's what we want for dinner.

"We will not name them Guy," I start.

Walker nods. "Or Bertha."

"Or Gayle."

"Or anything that's a food."

"Or Richard."

Walker sits up to look at me, asking, "What's wrong with Richard?"

"For some reason their nickname is Dick."

He leans back again, agreeing, "Yeah. No Richard."

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Oceana has me seated on my stool facing away from my vanity in my room to keep me from being able to see myself before she's done. She's very insistent on it being a surprise, which at first I was weary about, but now I've settled into a comfortable rhythm as my eyes follow her hand toward the eyeshadow pallet then back up to my eye when I have to close them again and let the sensation of the brush stoking my eyelid replace my vision. Her touch is so gentle that it gives me tingles throughout my spine with each dust of my skin. Sitting on my desk chair, she leans forward enough that the ends of her long hair graze my knees, but I try not to let that tickle.

"This colour looks so good on you," Oceana says.

"I can't see a mirror, which normally gives me anxiety," I respond with a nervous laugh, "so I'm trusting you."

"Well, I promise you can trust me," she says with a smile. "You look great."

She backs up to wipe the brush and change colours, and in that time, I notice the way the waves in her hair intertwine with each other like tree roots that have taken over a forest floor. I can totally see why Andreas likes her. I mean, she's stunning, like seriously, gorgeous. Her face is made of soft yet structured lines that all seem to sparkle, whether that be because of the lighting or just her. And her style is nothing underwhelming. The bell sleeves that start at the elbows of her pink, wrap top dangle down like floating rain the way her hair does, and her pale jeans frame her figure well.

"So," I say after a moment, "you and Andreas. How did you two...?"

She knows my question without me having to finish it, and she sets down the makeup palette to answer.

"Oh, well, you know we met at camp. Initially, he made a dumb pickup line that I can't remember."

"Yup," I say with a laugh. "Sounds like Andreas."

She chuckles a little and continues, "But then we started talking, and it turned out that that pickup line wasn't all he had to say."

"I've never been to camp before," I say. "Well, I did once when I was little, but I've never been very outdoorsy."

"I was born on a boat, so I pretty much had to be outdoorsy."

"You were born on a boat?"

"Cruise ship. Hence why my name is what it is."

"It's pretty," I compliment. "Your name. My name just means rock or something."

"Precious stone," she says with a soft smile.

"What?"

"That's what your name means," she explains. "I know because I used to have a friend with your name."

"Maybe we were friends before, and I didn't know," I theorize.

"You'd remember a girl named Oceana," she says.

"I mean, I'd probably remember you regardless of your name," I confess, letting my eyes wander over her again.

"Am I that memorable?"

"Hell yeah," I confirm.

I grin, and we both fall into giggles in time like following the same beat.

**Andreas's POV**

Hazel and I are in the living room while the girls are upstairs and the adults are in the kitchen. She and I each have our own seats here that we're resting on while I'm on my phone and she's trying to make conversation. For some reason, she wants to talk, but I'm just waiting to be able to leave again. Hazel's cool, but she wasn't who I intended to see here. Honestly, I don't know why I even cared so much in the first place. It's not like Jayda's anything special. She's just my friend.

"So why'd you bring Oceana here?" Hazel questions.

"Uh, we were passing by."

"I pass by a lot of places without going into them," Hazel responds.

"So I'm more respectful than you."

She nods skeptically. "Hot take coming from a guy who once flirted with a waitress to try to get a free meal."

I roll my eyes. "I don't do that anymore."

"Yeah, I guess you can't 'cause of your girlfriend."

"Oh, yeah."

I probably shouldn't be as thrown off as I am every time I hear someone mention my girlfriend. Thinking rationally, it makes sense that I would be put off by the word just because I've never really called anyone my girlfriend before. I mean, I sort of have, but also the title switched around a lot from girl to girl. Nothing ever lasted this long. I don't really know why this has lasted this long.

"What do you like about Oceana anyway?" Hazel asks, leaning forward.

"I don't know. She's hot. She's got pretty eyes."

"Other than her appearance," Hazel presses.

That, I have trouble with.

"Um...well, she's smart."

"Since when do you care if a girl's smart?" Hazel challenges.

Answer: since never. I don't.

"I don't know. She's nice. She offered to help Jayda out, even thought I was kinda hoping to talk to Jayda, but Oceana's nice, because she does things like that, even though Jayda definitely doesn't need any help to look good for anyone."

At the end of my ramble, I realize Hazel is giving me a strange look: narrowed eyes, thin grin. It makes me uncomfortable just seeing it.

"You know what I find most interesting about this conversation?" she says. "You've said Jayda's name more than your girlfriend's."

"No, I haven't."

"Sure."

Her acceptance is too easy to be genuine, so I keep going.

"I like Oceana."

"I'm not saying you don't," Hazel responds, "but I'm just wondering how much of her do you actually like?"

That's a stupid question. Obviously, I like all of her, otherwise I wouldn't be with her. Yeah, I like her. Hazel doesn't know what she's talking about.

**Amber's POV**

Wyatt got bored and went downstairs a while ago. Currently, my mom is finishing swapping the last of the bowls into the cabinet where the cups used to be. After removing the painting, she ended up going on a rearranging spree in TJ's kitchen, deciding that everything was in the wrong place, and that it had to be changed. My brother and his husband grit their teeth to keep from saying anything bad, because my mom would just blow it off anyway as being uneducated and silly.

"Isn't this better?" my mom says with a smile. "Now you have easy access to your spoons whenever you get a bowl."

"Thank God this isn't my house," I mutter to Andi. "Otherwise, I'd need easier access to the wine glasses."

"Mom," TJ finally speaks up, "I really don't need your help with my kitchen. I like the way it is."

"Oh, yes, of course," Mom responds. "You Gen Z don't understand the flow of things and how it affects your stress levels."

"I know how you affect my stress levels," I mumble.

"See, your sister agrees," my mom states, making me question if she's hard for hearing or just pays that little attention.

"Mom, I'm sure TJ doesn't need you telling him how to layout his house."

"Oh, sweetie, you're right. I've forgotten about you. You're full of negative energy. If I had helped you, maybe you wouldn't have lost your job."

Thankfully, Andi steps in before I can explode.

"Uh, Tilda," she says to my mom, "why don't you tell us more about your life?"

"I'd love to, but first, I'm noticing some problems outside that I have to address."

She starts toward the backyard doors, and TJ and I both share an annoyed look before following.


	54. S2 E5.3: Superheroes

**Buffy's POV**

"Cara Driscoll."

When her name is called, Marty and I stand up, but Cara is shaking her head anxiously.

"I changed my mind," she says. "I want to be a zombie."

"No, you don't," Marty tells her. "Come on."

He raises her hand, lifting her onto her feet, and she reluctantly trudges along behind her dad as the three of us walk down the hall where the receptionist directs us. We stop in a little room with one seat for Cara where she plops down, a seat for the healthcare worker who is not here yet, and a seat in the corner of the room where Marty sits down. Cara looks around as her hands fiddle with the metal frame of her chair. She gets a disgusted look on her face when she sees a poster with a diagram of the human organs.

"Is that what I look like inside?" she questions.

"Yup," I reply.

"Gross."

"I completely agree," Marty says.

Realizing nobody's come to give her her vaccination yet, Cara asks, "Did the doctor forget about me?"

"No," I answer.

"Probably not," Marty says, and I give him a nudge on the shoulder.

"No," I repeat.

"If they don't show up in the next ten second, can we leave?" Cara asks.

Right as she's done that sentence, a woman in blue scrubs walks in, putting a pout on Cara's face, but my expression turns to surprise.

"Kaitlin?" I say.

My old friend turns to me and lights up at the recognition.

"Buffy?" she responds. "I saw 'Driscoll' on the papers, but I wasn't sure if it was the same one."

She steps up to hug me. It's been so long since we've talked, but she's still has the same pearly smile from my memories.

As the two of us let each other go, Cara looks up at us, saying, "You know the person who's going to stab me with a needle?"

"She was on my middle school basketball team," I explain.

Cara glances to Marty, saying, "Great. They're conspiring against me."

"Cara's a little scared," I tell Kaitlin.

"I don't get scared," my daughter denies. "I have a rational aversion to getting needles."

Kaitlin chuckles lightly as she takes a seat in the chair beside my daughter by the counter of medical tools.

"Well, there's nothing to be afraid of," Kaitlin says. "It's just a tiny pinch, and it will be over before you know it."

"It's stupid," Cara whines.

"Cara—" I start, but Kaitlin brushes me off with a wave.

"It's alright," she says. "I have kids of my own. Triplets, actually."

"Wow," I respond.

"Yeah." She looks to Cara. "And I'll tell you what I tell them whenever they have to get needles. This is kind of like getting a superpower."

Cara raises an eyebrow skeptically. "How?"

"Well, every superhero has to go through a little pain to become extra amazing. You have to get a needle, and then you'll be able to fight off a disease whenever it tries to hurt you."

"That's pretty cool," Cara admits.

Kaitlin smiles. "It is."

"Okay," Cara says with a sigh and closes her eyes. "Do it fast."

Kaitlin puts on her gloves and takes a wipe to Cara's shoulder to disinfect it. While she prepares the needle, Cara bounces her legs rapidly.

"Okay, ready?" Kaitlin asks.

"Daddy, hold my hand!" Cara orders, and Marty scoots his chair closer to wrap his hand around hers.

Cara squeezes her eyes shut while Kaitlin inserts the needle, and by the end of it, Cara is still holding still.

"All done," Kaitlin says.

Cara opens her eyes. "Really?"

"Yup."

Kaitlin takes piece of cotton and presses it to the spot then uses her free hand to lift up three different Band-Aid options: princesses, superheroes, or jungle animals.

"Which one do you want?" Kaitlin asks.

Cara picks the one with the superheroes on it, and Kaitlin sticks the bandage over the hole where the needle was.

"Thank you so much," I say as Cara hops up off her chair.

"It's my job," Kaitlin responds.

"We have to get together sometime to catch up," I go on.

"I'd love that."

"Can we get ice cream now?" Cara asks.

"Better yet," Marty replies, "we'll get smoothies. Superheroes drink smoothies."

"Are you trying to trick me?" the girl questions.

"No," Kaitlin supports. "Superheroes are big and strong, so they have to eat lots of healthy food to be that way."

"Fine," Cara accepts.

She tugs Marty along as she exits the room, and I step ahead to join them, but before leaving I turn back around to say one more thing.

"Thanks."

Kaitlin just smiles in response, and I hurry out of the room to walk with my family.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

I scroll on my phone to the next name on the list of random names that the internet has come up with.

"Cassia," I read out.

"Sounds like Narnia," Jonah responds negatively.

"Cassius."

"Sounds like Perseus."

"Cleo."

Jonah tilts his head, giving me an expression that tells me he doesn't completely hate it. That's enough to make me write it down on the notepad before continuing reading off the list.

"I'll skip Coco," I say. "Delilah?"

"Sounds like an old person's name."

"Domino."

"That's not a name. That's a game."

"Dylan."

"If we name our kid Dylan, we've signed them up to be an F-boy or F-girl from birth."

I've come to the conclusion that Jonah doesn't know what he likes in regards to names, but he really knows what he doesn't like. Unfortunately, with an endless supply of names, going backwards from names we hate to names we like will take forever.

"Maybe we should stop," I say.

"Yeah," Jonah agrees. "None of these names feel right."

"Let's think about it on our own some more, and we'll talk about it again another time," I suggest.

"Sounds good."

I set the notepad down and stand up to go use the washroom, which I haven't done for a few hours now. I notice Jonah go over to look at the names I've written on the notepad, and he speaks once more, making me look back to listen.

"I'm taking Robert off the list," he says as he crosses the name out with my marker.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because then they'll be called Bob."

"Valid."

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

I hear a knock on my bedroom door as I finish zipping up the back of my violet skirt and double check that my satin top isn't folded up at the hem.

"Can I come back in?" Oceana asks from the hall.

"Yeah."

She carefully turns the door knob and peeks her head inside before reentering the room with her eyes focused on my outfit in awe. She gasps and puts her hands over her mouth, and I absorb the positive energy she's giving me. After a moment, she lets her hands drop again and smiles.

"Yeah, no, if this boy doesn't fall for you on the spot, he's certified brainless," she states. "You are stunning." Then she remembers, "But we forgot one thing."

She goes back over to my vanity and picks up the lip gloss that I'd forgotten about. I watch as she unscrews the brush from the tube and comes up to me with the wand raised and ready. A chill zaps through me in a wave the second she touches the brush to my lip, and my eyes follow hers which concentrate on my lips. Her eyes are brown but there are gold specks in them too that shine out from the rest of the irises. Tracing her face, my sight eventually goes down her her lips too, which are glazed with a translucent purple tint. As she finishes painting, her eyes flick up to mine, making me feel loopy for a moment before she backs away and closes the lip gloss.

"Um..." she says, looking down at the floor then back up to me. "There. Beautiful. I mean, you were before, but... You get it."

She spins around to head for the door, but it takes me another moment to get my mind back into action mode.

**Andreas's POV**

The second I see her walk down the stairs, I realize I wasn't prepared for this. Jayda looks...yeah. My palms get sweaty on the spot, and I stand up to go meet her as she descends the stairs. Hazel joins alongside me, and Oceana walks behind Jayda, the two of them touching the floor one after the other.

"Damn," I react.

"How do I look?" Jayda asks with a grin.

"Incredible," Hazel replies, "as always."

My hand comes up to rub the back of my neck like I do when I have to make speeches or talk to important people on the phone.

"Yeah," I agree. "Your date is one lucky guy."

"Well, I have Oceana to thank."

Jayda looks over at my girlfriend, and the two of them exchange smiles.

"I'm really glad you two are becoming friends," I say, because I don't know what else to say, and it's not like I'm lying. I am glad they're friends.

"Yeah," Oceana responds.

Both girls keep their eyes connected for another moment before Jayda takes a step back, saying, "Anyway, I'm gonna get going."

She heads for the door, and Oceana turns to me again.

"I'll go too," she says. "It's later than I expected, and I kinda need to finish reading a book for English before Monday."

"Oh, no problem," I say. "I'll get the door."

I open it for the ladies, and they both exit. They walk in a line up to the sidewalk where they split paths, both going in different directions. When I close the door, Hazel is looking at me with curious eyes.

"You're not gonna go after her?" she says.

"Why would I go after Oceana?" I question, confused. "She's just going home."

"Sure," Hazel responds dryly, taking a step back to leave for the kitchen. "That's who I was talking about."

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

TJ, Cyrus, Andi, and I stand on the grass while my mother twirls around in the backyard, her arms outspread and chin up. Her expression is glum as she slows to a stop, looking at my brother.

"TJ, your garden is dreary," she says.

TJ and Cyrus haven't spent much time landscaping their yard. All it has are a few trees in the corner opposite of the detached garage that leads to the alley, as well as a bed of flowers beneath the trees, surrounded by a stone frame, with a few potted plants on the stone patio, deck, and against the garage exterior.

"I chose the flowers," Cyrus says in response to my mother's judgement.

"Oh, honey, I'll forgive you, because you're not my blood, but TJ, dear, you should know better than to put pots along that wall." She points to the garage wall. "That's north." Then she turns to switch her sights to the garden bed. "And why don't you have lavenders here?"

TJ steps forward, saying, "Mom, I love you, but I don't care about what flowers are out here."

Mom looks at him then to the rest of us and says, "Oh, you are all very tense. Here. Lay down."

I know what she's doing. She used to do this when we were kids too. My dad always got annoyed with it, which is part of why they fought a lot. TJ recognizes the instruction right away and shakes his head.

"Mom—"

"Lay down," my mother repeats, cutting him off. "You may not be kids anymore, but you're still my kids, so you'll listen to me."

TJ looks at me, and we both sigh. The two of us walk up next to her, leaving our spouses watching on the side, then lower down to the grass where we rest our heads back and spread our limbs out. 

"Now," Mom breathes, "do you feel the earth beneath you?"

"Yeah, we feel it," TJ responds.

"Let it absorb all your frustration and worry. Feel your anger draining from your body and soaking into the ground. Then feel the peace and tranquility fill you."

I do as told, and my breathing becomes the centre of my attention as my muscles relax. My mom may be way too judgemental, but she knows how to calm us down. Compared to Dad, she's at least far more open to alternative ideas, even if she isn't open to criticism. She was the easy one to come out to, because she never cared about that kind of stuff, which I do have to be thankful for. Of all the parents there are, she's far from the worst or even bad. She's pretty good, just a little much sometimes.

"Does Bowie do this kind of stuff?" I hear Cyrus whisper from the side.

"My dad's free-spirited, but not like this," Andi replies.

"Can you hear the earth?" my mom asks TJ and me. "Do you hear its hum?"

I might be crazy, but I actually do. I hear a low thrumming caress my ears, and I let my mind sink back into it.

"I can," I say. "It sounds like an engine."

"Oh, that's not the earth," Mom replies with a loose laugh as she sits up. "That's my boyfriend's van."

TJ and I stand up with our mom, and I realize the hum is pretty obviously that of a car coming from the front of the house.

"He's here to get me," Mom explains. "We're going to Alaska next."

"You know Alaska's nowhere near here," Andi chimes in, "right?"

"Oh, honey, don't be so negative." She blows us all a kiss, saying, "Au revoir, my little tulips. Tell the kids I say goodbye. Also, I left some new soap in your bathroom, because your old one had so many chemicals."

TJ takes in a heavy breath and lets it out in a kind reply, "Thanks, Mom."

She scurries toward the gateway, and the four of us follow her. Her boyfriend leans out of the sliding door of a Volkswagen van, wearing only ripped jeans and a wooden beaded necklace. No shirt. No shoes. My mom runs up, and he pulls her into the van where he kisses her hard, and both my brother and I turn our eyes away for the moment until the door closes, and whoever is driving the van accelerates down the roadway, going double the speed limit, indie rock music blaring through the sunroof.

"She's crazy," I say with a chuckle.

"Definitely," TJ agrees.

"But she means well," I add.

TJ smiles. "Yeah." Then he turns to me. "Will you help me put that painting back up?"

"Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this episode. I also hope you sensed some drama starting. Next episode is gonna be kinda fun too. I love you all. Bye! Sorry I posted so late. I lowkey forgot to post it.


	55. S2 E6.1: Unusual Artists

**Cyrus's POV**

I'm drinking my morning coffee as usual while TJ grills tomatoes and onions for his avocado toast, and Wyatt chugs back a glass of apple juice at the kitchen table. The only sound is the sizzling of the juices in TJ's pan and the gulping of my son with his cup. Overall, it's calm—until Jayda comes marching into the kitchen, dropping her backpack on the ground with a clunk.

"So which one of you is gonna take me to my driver's test after school today?" she questions.

"That's today?" I respond.

Jayda is going to be able to drive. This now-sixteen-year-old girl who says stoplights are just suggestions is going to get her license. How terrifying.

"Yeah," Jayda confirms. "I've been reminding you guys daily since my birthday."

"So you're gonna be on the road, huh?" TJ says with a smile on his face but worried wrinkles in his forehead. "Fun. Make sure to tell me what times you're driving at so that I can make sure I'm not on the road."

"You have zero faith in me," Jayda scoffs.

"No, I have plenty of faith in you," TJ counters, "but are you sure you don't want to practice more?"

"I don't need practice," the girl asserts. "I'm perfect."

Seeing as she's not going to change her mind, I can only trust that the person judging her driving will make the right call.

"We'll both take you there right after school," I say.

"Can I come?" Wyatt chirps, and I look over at him.

"Sure," I reply, "but wear your—"

"Helmet," he finishes. "I know."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

If there's one thing my friends have taught me in this lifetime, it's that you can't be best friends with two drama kids without eventually being sucked into that life yourself. I have to admit, there is something reassuring about having a place to go after school where all the people know you and savour your stories unlike the many other obscure faces you see during the day. Here, I am not the keener kid who uses words beyond what the other kids deem satisfactory. Instead, I am Brayden, known by name, the kid who helps make sets. It's not much, but it's enough for me. I prefer that to anything in the spotlight. I'd rather not have a thousand eyes critiquing me constantly.

Linny and Kelsey walk beside me down the isle as we enter the theatre. Mrs. Wise is standing off stage, flipping through notes while the cast members stand on stage, some running lines, others marking dances. Behind the curtain is the backstage where all the costumes and props are stored, as well as where regular drama classes happen during the school day, since there's plenty of floor space and various types of seats for people to loiter on.

"I think I was born to be Jane Banks," Linny says as we walk, "or at least play her."

"If by that you mean you were born a female child with sandy blonde hair, then yes, you were," I reply.

"Brayden," Kelsey says, "next year you should join the cast."

"No, I'm very comfortable behind the scenes," I reply, "and even then, I only joined set crew because you practically forced me."

"Don't think of it as forcing," Kelsey tells me. "Think of it as a supportive nudge."

"Okay. You forcefully supportive nudged me."

As the three of us get up to the front of the theatre, Mrs. Wise becomes aware of our presence.

"Wonderful!" she exclaims. "Now that everyone's here, let's get my dancers for 'Chim Chim Cheree' to the stage."

I start toward the stairs of the stage to go behind the curtain, but the teacher stops me before I get there.

"Brayden, so you know, we have some students from detention here to help with painting the sets. Let me know if there are any problems."

"Certainly," I reply.

I leave my two friends in the theatre and disappear backstage. Back here, tables are set up with students busy painting the finishing touches on the set backgrounds. Each one takes up several tables, due to their height and length, and the paint has been coloured from the centre out to make it easier to reach. There are only two art students in drama club, but they lead the whole set crew by drawing the outlines of each background to ensure they didn't turn out too atrocious.

A few people say hello as I enter the room, and I smile back, going over to two kids working on painting the night sky for Cherry Tree Lane. I watch as one boy, Marcus starts brushing hot pink into the black clouds.

"Why are you adding pink?" Marceline beside him questions. "There's no pink at night."

"I thought it could be more abstract," Marcus replies.

"This is Mary Poppins, not a Picasso piece."

"Is there much of a difference?"

"I like the pink," I defend.

Marcus smiles, saying, "Brayden agrees."

Marceline just shakes her head and moves on, turning to me to say, "Brayden, could you go work on the night forest background with that detention boy? I don't think he knows what he's doing."

"Swell," I huff dryly. "Stick me with the delinquent."

I leave the two familiar people to go over to the specified scene, but the instant I see who the boy I'm supposed to work with is, I know his name. On a regular day, I would probably be scared, but he hasn't actually been bothering me that much anymore, not since I saw him at Red Rooster Records. The only times he says anything mean is when we're forced near each other, which we are right now, so this should be a hoot and a half.

"Deion," I say as I step up to the tables.

"Gayden? Of course you're in theatre club."

"Of course you're in detention," I retort.

"Whatever," he grumbles.

Knowing this is going to be uncomfortable no matter what I say, I just choose to end the small talk, saying, "I'll get the paint, and we can get started."

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

When Jayda sees me, TJ, and Wyatt in the car together stopped in Grant High's drop-off/pick-up zone, she immediately opens the driver's side door and motions for TJ to switch seats.

"Papa, I'm driving."

"Are you sure?" TJ asks nervously.

"Yes," Jayda insists. "It's gonna look bad if I show up to the registry being driven by someone else."

"It'll also look bad if you show up with a huge dent in our car," TJ reasons.

"Move," Jayda orders.

TJ sighs and gets out, sliding into the backseat with Wyatt, while Jayda buckles into the driver's seat and adjusts her mirrors.

"Is this gonna be like one of those car stunt shows?" Wyatt asks.

"If I find a jump, I'll take it for you," Jayda responds.

"Please don't," I beg.

"Okay, both you and Papa need to chill," she says. "I know how to drive."

She turns the key in the ignition and brings her left foot up onto her seat so that her knee is in the air, and I shake my head.

"Put your leg down," I command.

"God," she scoffs. "Bossy much?"

She rolls her eyes and lifts her foot off the break, letting the car roll forward.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

The gallery has high ceilings that must be up to three stories tall. They make space for the larger sculptures in the room, the ones that give anything I've made a run for their money. Paintings and pastel work cover the walls, each with a special metal place stating their title, artist, and price. I'm thankful I told Buffy, Marty, and my wife to dress up nice for this, because everyone else here is in floor-length gowns, pant suits, and tuxes like some kind of adult prom with less sparkles and more shine.

"This place looks way too classy for us to be allowed in here," Amber comments.

"Yeah," Marty agrees. "How are we allowed in here again?"

"Jemila Mahama, the famous gallery owner, invited known artists to the grand opening of the gallery," I remind them. "I'm hoping that if I can make a good impression, maybe I could get one of my pieces in here. But as to you being allowed in here, you won't be if you do anything to make me look bad."

"You don't have to worry about us," Buffy assures me.

Marty's eyes catch on a wooden carving of a butterfly that sits on a pedestal, and he reaches out for it, wondering, "Are we allowed to touch them?"

Buffy puts her hand over his to lower it down away from the artwork, telling me. "You don't have to worry about me."

Although still concerned about Marty's presence, I turn back ahead and spot the woman herself, the one I've been meaning to talk to. She wears a long, black coat that curls at the ends like wrapping paper, and she has a black rose hairpiece with checkered feathers blooming from it. Her lipstick is dark too, but her tights are white, peeking out from under her knee-length black skirt.

"There she is," I say in excitement.

Amber looks to where I'm pointing and says, "She looks like a Tim Burton character."

Too eager to speak to the woman, I start in a power walk forward, slowing only once I get up to Jemila Mahama, and Amber rushes to keep up with me. Jemila stands beside a lanky, young man with a spotty beard and a white suit who appears to be judging the surroundings for her, because she just stares ahead at nothing. But my approach causes her to turn her eyes to me.

"Hi," I say.

"Oh, hello," she greets. "Are you looking for the washrooms too?"

"No, uh, I'm Andi Mack."

"Are you an artist or one of my husband's extended relatives?"

"An artist," I answer and then gesture to Amber beside me. "And this is my wife, Amber."

"It's nice to meet you," Amber says.

"Mmm, it is," Jemila responds with a pleased look.

"The gallery is amazing," I compliment. "So many great artists."

"Yes, I selected each piece myself. I need to only have the best here. If I carry something bland, I'll tarnish my reputation, and my customers will move on."

The pressure on me rises to match her standards.

"I totally get that," I say. "So, I was wondering if you'd be willing to see some of my pieces."

"I suppose I have a moment." Then she turns to her accompaniment saying, "Charles."

The man, Charles, disappears out of the room and comes back in a flash with a chair for Jemila to sit down on in the middle of the floor. I'm a little caught off guard by it, but then Charles shows up behind me with a chair, and I accept that this is normal and take out my book of photos from my purse to begin showing the woman my sculptures.


	56. S2 E6.2: Unusual Artists

**Cyrus's POV**

Wyatt's never been in the car before when Jayda was driving, but somehow his presence is making the chaotic driver into a not horrible one, although the amount of shouting in the car has my stress levels at their max.

"That was a stop sign!" Wyatt yells.

"It was a yield!" Jayda returns.

"Good! You're paying attention!"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

The vehicle turns out of the safety of the neighbourhood and onto the highway, zooming down the onramp at an inconsistent speed.

"Eyes on the road!" Wyatt shouts. "Merge!"

"I'm trying!" Jayda screams.

Her trying turns out to be good enough as the car smoothly blends in with the rest of the traffic. While she whimpers in the driver's seat and Wyatt continues barking orders, I glance back at TJ to see that he's just as amazed as I am at our kids' odd yet effective teamwork.

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

With Marty and Buffy out for the night at Andi's art thing, we were asked to watch Cara at their house. Andi invited us to the gallery opening too, but Walker had already gone to the even more exclusive pre-opening, at which he charmed his way into getting four of his paintings on sale there. He didn't tell Andi that, though, because he didn't want her to feel bad if she didn't get her work in it too. I think another reason Walker opted to watch Cara with me instead of go to the gallery is because he's probably noticed that I've been kinda nervous about getting a kid. Watching your friends' kid isn't the same as having your own, because if you screw up your own kid it feels worse, but babysitting is still good practice.

"Do you want to play Barbie or something?" Walker asks Cara as she comes downstairs into the living room after finishing her homework, which consisted of nothing more than a spelling worksheet.

She shakes her head. "I'm out of those."

Walker's confused by that. "Out of?"

"I want to make bracelets," Cara says instead.

She shoots her wrist out for us to see the seven colourful friendship bracelets striping her arm.

"Those look awesome," I say. "You made them?"

"The girls in my class trade their candy at lunch for bracelets," Cara explains.

"You're bartering with bracelets at school?" Walker says.

"I can't sell things, but trading is allowed, because there isn't money involved," Cara states. "I also like candy."

"Be careful how much you eat," Walker warns her.

"I wanna eat a whole bunch to compensate for when I get diabetes," the girl counters.

"Does anyone in your family have diabetes?" Walker questions.

"No, but if I do get it, I will be sad if I didn't make the most out of my time with candy."

"Cool plan," I say.

Walker gives me a look, but I don't know why. Cara's planning ahead. That's a good thing. I mean, I think it's a good thing.

"So, how do you make these bracelets?" I ask.

"The kit is in my bedroom," Cara says. "I'll go get it."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

The silence between the two of us is almost eery. I dip my brush into the black paint and continue sweeping strokes over the shadowy base of a tree trunk. Frequently, I look up across the tables at Deion who paints in some leaves with short, abrupt lines that end up looking like pixilation in a video game rather than the smooth veins of foliage. But I don't say anything. Although his material he uses to put me down has run pretty dry recently, I don't feel the need to try to be bullied again by judging him. That stands true until I notice him take a break from painting to rub the wrist of the hand that holds the brush, and I forget my previous decision.

"Your wrist hurting?" I ask.

"I don't paint much," he explains.

I look over at his section of the background. It fiercely stands out from the rest due to its lack of blending.

"I can tell," I say. "The art kids would be shivering."

I set down my own paintbrush and walk around the tables to where he is. He doesn't fight as I pluck the brush from his hand and start demonstrating how he should paint.

"Long, flowing strokes," I say. "Not short ones. Blend them into the other greens to make it less sudden of a change between shades."

After showing him for another minute, I hold the handle of his brush out for him, and although reluctantly, he takes it back and tries the technique I described. Right away, the painting starts to look ten times better, and I observe him for another while as he fills in the leaves, his focus deep on his artwork. Eventually, I decide to retrieve my brush from the other side of the tables and join Deion in colouring in the greenery.

"What did you do to end up in detention?" I ask him while we work.

"Late for class," he mumbles.

"How come you were late?"

"None of your business."

"What a lovely answer," I reply, and Deion hears my sarcasm which makes him let out a huff.

"Morning took longer than usual," he goes on.

"You missed your buss?" I guess.

"No," he denies. "My bus missed me."

"Unique perspective," I say, an amused smile finding my face.

"Yeah, well, you read books. You know different perspectives."

"I do read books," I repeat, "the ones you always damage."

That casts Deion back into quiet as what was becoming a smile drips away into a frown again, and he continues painting, pretending I'm not here. Disappointed, I bring my brush back to the other end of the tables and carry on with the tree trunks, but before putting the colour down, I raise my pallet up for Deion to see, hoping to get him to talk again.

"Which brown do you think I should use for the trunk?" I ask.

I already know which one I'm going to use, so the question is redundant, but watching Deion paint in anger puts me on edge. Deion raises his eyes to look at the options then points to the one on the left.

"That one," he says. "The other has too much green. It would make the tree look like broccoli."

I nod and dip my brush into that colour. It was the one I was going to pick anyway.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Three things about my driving examiner: she has those weird, triangle glasses that grandmas wear; she clicks her pen so loud that is scares me every time; and she's not saying shit. Seriously, she's silent, and when she does talk, it's monotone instructions on where to turn next. Meanwhile, I'm here trying to remember which mirror is my rearview and doing my best to avoid hitting parked cars in the neighbourhood.

I nearly scream when the whole car jolts.

"Did I just run over that duck?" I freak.

"That was a pothole," the examiner mutters stoically. "Keep driving."

I keep my foot on the gas, trying to divide my eyes between the speedometer and the road, but my heart starts racing when I hear that stupid pen click and notice the lady scribble something down on her clipboard.

"Turn right here," she instructs.

I nod and move over to the side to take the corner.

"You just turned left."

"Which way?" I ask again, my nerves getting in the way of me being able to think straight.

"Now you're driving on the centre line."

"Oh, oops."

I laugh, sounding on the verge of tears, and adjust my steering.

After another torturous minute, the examiner orders, "Let's go back. We're done here."

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

Buffy and I have wandered so far through this gallery that we're now in a room of sculptures on pedestals and photography in frames on the walls. Nobody else is even in this area, probably because it's tiny and a lot less exciting than the other sections. But Amber manages to find us here.

"There you guys are," she says.

"You were looking for us?" Buffy responds.

"Yeah. Jemila Mahama's sidekick didn't give me a chair, so I figured I'd get out of the way. Also, I think I saw one of Walker's paintings in the other room."

"How'd he get his art in here?" Buffy questions.

"I don't know. What's this section?"

"Photography," Buffy answers.

Amber gazes around at the photos as she says, "I never understood buying photography. I took a photography class in college, and those photos were just as good as any of these."

"And you can get any of this photography free on Google images," I add.

"Not legally," Buffy says.

I step up to one of the frames, saying, "This one's interesting."

"Is that a shoe?" Amber asks.

"With gum on it," I elaborate.

"There must be some kind of meaning to it," Buffy tells us.

"Watch where you step?" I guess.

She shakes her head at me. "This is why I never take you to art galleries."

"I thought it was becauase you didn't care about art galleries."

"Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to."

"This one's kinda cool," Amber says from at different wall.

I spin around to look, but when I do, I feel my back knock into something behind me, and a shatter sounds as a clay sculpture explodes on the ground into several large chunks. The three of us all stare in shock. I just broke a piece of one-of-a-kind artwork.

"No worries," I say, trying to keep the girls from flipping out. "We'll just buy it."

Buffy looks at the plaque on the pedestal that says the price and states, "If we buy this, we'll have to sell one of our kids."

"Well," I breathe, "Brayden would do fine on his own—"

"Marty!" Buffy yells.

"I'm sorry! How do we fix this!"

The busted sculpture of what looks like was a person before mocks me as I look down at it in fear.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

I step back into the registry and see my dads and brother looking at me with hopeful eyes.

"How did it go?" TJ asks.

I just shake my head. My brother, however, doesn't accept that answer, and he marches up to the examiner who enters behind me.

"Ma'am," Wyatt says, "let's try once more, but bring me with you."

The lady, stunned by his boldness, responds, "I have other appointments to get to."

"You're not even halfway done the hour," Wyatt argues.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

"She said turn right!" Wyatt yells from the backseat.

I force the wheel to the right and take the turn, while the examiner scrutinizes my every move.

"Jayda Destiny Kippen, eyes open!" Wyatt keeps going.

"They are open!" I shout.

"There's a stop sign! Stop gently!"

I ease my foot on the breaks, coming to a seamless halt.

"If everyone gets to the sign at the same time, who goes first!" Wyatt challenges.

"The person on the right!"

"Correct!"

I get the vehicle moving again, and the examiner marks something down on her board.

"I've seen enough," she says in an emotionless tone. "Take us back."

"Did I pass?" I ask.

"You need a screaming boy in the back of your car in order to drive properly," she scoffs. "You expect me to pass you?"

"Yes?"

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

When Jayda runs into the registry this time, she has an overjoyed grin on her face

"I got my licence!" she cheers.

I'm both shocked and happy for her as I respond, "That's great."

Cyrus watches me as I take out my phone and start typing on it.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Warning—I mean telling our friends about the good news."

Jayda squeals in excitement and runs her hands over her clothes to ensure they're not wrinkled.

"Okay," she says, "how's my hair? I don't want a bad licence photo."

"Perfect," Cyrus replies with a smile. "Now go over there."

She hurries over to her examiner who takes her to the back of the registry where the photos are being taken, and Wyatt comes up to Cyrus and me with a proud grin.

"Good job," Cyrus tells him.

"Thanks. But save the compliments for the reference letter you'll write for me when Andreas turns sixteen."

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

We've managed to tape all the pieces of clay back together with the roll of masking tape that Amber had in her purse for a reason she couldn't even remember. Yes, there are still cracks all over it, but at least it's in one piece, and from far away, it looks like nothing happened, except that it's still missing the tiny human head that's supposed to attach to the body.

"It's missing the head," Buffy states.

"There isn't a head," I say, looking over the floor another time.

"There has to be a head!" she insists.

"Your shouting isn't helping!"

"Guys!" Amber cuts in. "There's no head."

"No shit," Buffy says.

"We need to replace it," Amber goes on.

Buffy and I share the same uncertain look as she asks, "With what?"


	57. S2 E6.3: Unusual Artists

**Brayden's POV**

I look across the tables at Deion's work again, seeing that he's almost finished with the leaves of the tree he's on. He's now in this peculiar stage where he's teetering between just being content and holding his stone exterior. I notice a smile break through every once in a while, but it fades whenever he remembers where he is—or maybe who he is.

"That's looking really good," I say.

"Thanks," Deion responds.

"You might have to join theatre club now," I tease.

"I'll pass. I'm not a geek."

"Being a geek is pretty fun," I justify. "Comes with a lot of friends."

"I have friends," he argues.

I nod. "Right. The boys who help you pick on me."

He pauses for a moment before muttering, "Yeah."

There's a long quiet where he continues painting, his eyes softening into a deep dreary blue like the bottom of the ocean, a place I've never seen before in him, which keeps my curious gaze locked tight.

"What's it like having a group like this?" he asks after a moment.

"Well, I'm pretty new," I start, "but it's automatic support whenever you need it. It's also very embarrassing trips to the Denny's down the street."

Deion actually chuckles at that. I don't think I've ever seen him laugh in a way that wasn't a snicker before.

"If I wanted to be a nerd," he says, "I'd consider this."

"I'd argue that being mean isn't much better than being a nerd."

I'm noticing a pattern now. Whenever I mention how he usually treats me, he gets achingly quiet. But given a couple minutes to recollect himself, Deion speaks up again.

"Hey, Gayden," he says in a gentle, genuine tone, "what was that book you had today?"

I do notice the nickname, but I'm also starting to conclude that he must not be comfortable using my real name, for whatever reason. And I don't mind. I'd have to be made of glass for something like that to still bug me.

"Anne of Green Gables," I answer. Then I add, "I didn't realize you cared what I read."

"I only noticed 'cause my mom has that book," he explains. He waits another second before asking, "Is it good?"

"Very."

"I'll have to check it out."

He smiles but turns his eyes down to his painting again, and the two of us quietly start gathering our brushes and palettes to clean up for the evening.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

I was reluctant about Amber's solution at first, but seeing the Barbie head stuck to the top of the sculpture on the pedestal, I'm now just disappointed. This is a terrible solution, but there isn't really a better one.

"This looks like one of Cara's Barbies," I say.

"Yeah, she leaves the heads in my purse sometimes to scare me," Amber explains.

"Should we be taking her to a therapist?" Marty brings up.

Before I can, respond, footsteps turn my attention to the far hallway.

"Someone's coming," I say.

The three of us dash for the opposite exit from the footsteps, leaving our masterpiece of clay, tape, and doll on display.

"Think they'll notice?" Amber wonders.

"Hopefully they'll think it's part of the artistic expression of the piece," I reply.

All of a sudden, two men pass by us, heading into the room we're leaving, one of them going on about their art.

"You should see my piece, the clay man. I spent a week completing the details."

At that, the three of us pick up our speed.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Cara, Jonah and I are all sitting at the kitchen table, braiding thread into friendship bracelets. Cara is quick, and her braids are clean, showing her extensive practice. I'm also not doing too bad, since I used to braid all my sisters' hair in different ways for them when we were kids. Jonah, on the other hand, takes it slow, carefully wrapping each string together, and it's coming out better than I had expected.

"Jonah, you're pretty good at this," I say.

He smiles, and Cara gives her own nod of approval.

"Not bad for a rookie," she says.

"So this is what girls your age are into?" Jonah wonders.

Cara just shrugs, keeping her attention down on her black, white, purple, and yellow strings that she's twisting into a zig zag patterned bracelet.

"Should I add some beads?" Jonah asks.

"It's your first time," Cara reminds him. "Don't get carried away."

"I want to get good," he says.

I know why he cares so much. He wants to be good at these things for our own child, and he's doing fine. I hope he knows that.

"You'll get there," I assure him.

He gives me a faint smile. "I'm trying."

"Or maybe you'll stay bad," Cara counters. "That's okay too."

I turn my sight to her, insisting, "But if he keeps at it, he'll get there."

"Maybe," Cara replies. "Maybe not. Either way, I'm happy you're doing it with me. My brothers won't make bracelets with me, and my momma says she's not having anymore kids. I wish she would, though. Then I could dress them up to be my sidekick for Halloween." Out of the blue, she gasps and drops her half-finished bracelet. "You guys should have a baby! Why don't you?"

Jonah and I look at each other, both unsure what to say, so I try instead to change the subject, holding up my red and orange bracelet.

"How does this look?" I ask.

"Why aren't you answering?" Cara interrogates. "Do you hate kids?"

"No," Jonah promises. "We like kids. We're, uh..." He looks at me, and seeing my openness on my face, he finishes explaining to Cara, "It's a secret."

"I can keep a secret," Cara says. "I possess some very delicate knowledge that could ripple the fabric of my entire second grade class if anyone found out."

I chuckle and look over at Jonah. It's clear from our eyes that we're on the same page.

"We are having a baby," I say.

"Really?" she says in excitement. "Where is it?"

Jonah, caught off guard by the question, replies without thinking, "Uh, storks."

"I'm not stupid," the girl sasses. "I know where babies come from."

"Yeah, with the internet, kids can find out anything," I mutter.

"Mommies and daddies use their brain waves to put a baby inside the mommy," Cara explains proudly.

"Yeah, let's go with that," Jonah responds.

"I meant where is _your_ baby, because you guys aren't mommies," she says.

"Oh, right," I say, releasing a nervous laugh. "Well, it's not here yet. We don't know if they're even born yet. We're gonna find out later."

"How much later?"

"We don't know," I breathe.

Interrupting us comes the sound of the front door opening, and Andreas comes striding into the kitchen to look at his sister and only her.

"Cara, listen up," he says. "If you and your friends ever decide to sneak into a library after dark, don't. All it has are books. It's not worth your time."

He boomerangs back out of the room as soon as he's done talking, and Cara looks to me and Jonah with a smile.

"I learn important things from my brother," she says.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

Jemila Mahama's version of having a free moment is actually having multiple moments mixed into hours of not free moments, which has resulted in me having to wait for her to have full discussions with other people before she can get back to me only to have that repeat a minute later. Currently, I'm getting to the end of my art album, and I'm desperate for her to see a piece she likes, because so far she's brushed them all off.

"Oh, I love the lines in this one," she comments on one of my sculptures. "I think I saw something similar on a poster in my gynaecologist's office."

"Oh, that's—" I really don't know how to respond to that "—fun. Um, there's also this one." I flip the page. "It was a vibrant portrayal of nature using various types of strings and feathers and the like. I see you like feathers." I gesture to her hairpiece.

"It's a lion," she states. "Lions have been done to death since that Lion King musical. I think Disney has a patent on them anyway."

"On lions?"

"Yes."

"Uh...okay."

I turn to the next sculpture, and Jemila's face lights up.

"Now this is nice," she says.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. It's gorgeous. I could sell it for thousands."

"That would be amazing," I respond, smiling wide.

Suddenly, my wife and friends approach from behind Jemila, and I realize I haven't seen them in quite a while.

"Hey, guys," I say. "Sorry, I'm in the middle of something."

"No, we're done," Jemila corrects me. "I'll give you a call."

She stands up off her seat, and Charles retrieves it from under her. Then he comes over to me and takes mine too, making me stand.

"Thank you," I say.

She walks away without acknowledging that, but I'm pretty sure I just got one of my sculptures in the gallery, so I'm fine with it.

"It looks like it went well," Amber says. "I'm so proud of you. Uh, so Buffy and Marty have to get going."

"Already?" I say in surprise.

Buffy and Marty nod in sync.

"We should too," Amber adds.

I furrow my brows. "We should?"

"Andi, do you trust me?" she asks.

"Not right now."

"Wow. Well, listen to me anyway."

She grabs my hand and pulls me along out of the gallery.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

It's been a day since the event at the gallery, and I haven't heard anything about Marty and Buffy going into debt from buying a sculpture, so I think we got off scot-free. I step into the kitchen in the right as Andi is hanging up the phone, and she turns to me, ready to tell me something interesting.

"So that was the gallery," she says.

"Oh, what did they say?" I ask. "Are you getting your art in?"

"No," Andi answers. "It turns out there was an incident last night, and the gallery is shutting down."

I feel my muscles tense up as I ask, "What incident?"

"A statue was knocked off a pedestal and broken."

"The gallery's shutting down because of a statue?"

Wow. Marty's mistake really just cost Andi a place for her art at a major gallery.

"Actually," Andi replies, "because of the pedestal. Jemila didn't care about the statue, but apparently that was her favorite pedestal, and it has a dent now, so she got upset and cancelled the whole thing."

Okay, now I feel less bad.

"Andi, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. She was kind of odd anyway, and I'm pretty sure she compared one of my sculptures to a uterus."

"Interesting."

"Yeah. There's another gallery opening soon anyway. Do you want to come to that one?"

"Sure," I reply, "but let's not invite Buffy and Marty this time."

"Why?"

"Uh, they're not big art fans."

Seeing right through that, she asks, "Do I want to know?"

I shake my head. "Nope."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very excited to see your reactions to the next episode. Currently, what are some of your theories? Thanks for reading, and I'll see you soon.


	58. S2 E7.1: New Year's Eve

**Buffy's POV**

With the sky black outside, the living room glows in the yellow of lamps and ceiling lights. Having finished finding the party blowers and sitting those on the counter for tonight, I join my husband in the living room. There, Brayden also sits on a chair, reading The Great Gatsby with his legs criss-cross. On the couch, Andreas sits with his arm around his girlfriend who listens in as Marty starts talking to me.

"It's nice that your mom lives close enough to come for New Year's. My siblings all live in Tennessee now."

"Where do your parents live?" Oceana asks him.

Andreas answers the question for Marty, saying, "Heaven."

Then Brayden adds, "We hope."

Stealing the show comes Cara jumping down the stairs in a black, hooded robe with a shredded bottom, but contrary to her disheveled appearance, she's grinning wide.

"What do you think of my outfit?" she asks.

"You're...Darth Vader?" I guess.

"No. I'm the Grim Reaper."

"Cara," Andreas says, "it's New Year's Eve, not Halloween."

"Wyatt told me that days are just abstract constructs made by society to tie us down," the girl replies.

"I think you look adorable," Oceana says.

That makes Cara happy. She runs over to Oceana, and the two of them do a special handshake together consisting of a couple claps, an elbow bump, a snap, and a fist. I didn't realize they had a thing like that. Oceana's really become a well-liked figure among my kids.

A second later, the doorbell rings. I go over to open it, and my mother steps inside with a smile and a dish. She lives in the city, so I don't see her often, but I like having her around on holidays, especially since my dad passed away.

"Happy New Year's!" she says.

"Hi, Mom."

She brings her free arm up to give me a hug then steps back again, and I look down at the pastry in her container.

"Oooh, what did you bring?" I ask.

"It's cherry pie. I baked it myself right before coming, so it's still warm. I'm hoping nobody else made this."

"You're the only one. I can't wait to try it."

Oceana stands up from the couch and comes over, saying, "I'll bring it to the kitchen."

"Oh, thank you," my mom says. "I don't think we've met. I'm Pat."

"Oceana. I'm Andreas's girlfriend."

Oceana's about to take the pie from my mom when the door swings open again, and all four generations of Macks step in, from Hazel, Andi, and Amber, to Bex and Bowie, and finally Celia who leads the pack entering in, holding a dessert of her own.

"Happy New Year!" Celia says. "I made cherry pie!"

My mom's smile is slapped away by that as she looks down at Celia's container. Everyone at the door removes their shoes and coats while Celia steps forward up to my mom with a smile.

"Hi, Pat," she says then looks down at my mom's pie. "Oh, what kind is that?"

"Cherry," my mom mutters.

"Oh." Celia's smile flickers a little, but her teeth stay pressed together.

"This is awkward," Mom comments.

"I know," Celia says innocently. "You bringing store-bought while mine is homemade."

The tension spikes, and Andi makes her way over to me carefully like walking on eggshells.

"From now on," she says, "Cece and your mom have to coordinate their pies together."

I agree, "Yup."

**Walker's POV**

Jonah pulls the key out of the ignition after parking outside Andi and Amber's house. As he unbuckles and climbs out of the car, I notice that the tank empty light shuts off on the dashboard, which means it was on. This is his car, so I don't drive it that often, and I don't pay attention to the kind of care he takes of it, but I would hope he'd pay enough attention to fill the gas when needed.

"Hey, the gas tank empty light is on," I tell him.

Having curled around the car to the sidewalk by me, he looks over, saying, "Oh, I know. It always is."

"Then how do you know when the tank is actually empty?" I question.

Jonah shrugs. "The car stops moving."

He takes a step forward up the path toward the porch but then turns back around.

"Hey, I think my wallet fell out of my pocket," he says. "Could you check my seat?"

I reach back inside the car and over the centre console, finding his brown, worn wallet laying open on his seat. I'm about to grab it when I notice the corner of a photo sticking out of one of the card slots. I pull the image out, curious as to who it is, and it turns out to be a man about our age in a checkered shirt, someone I don't know.

"Uh, Jonah," I say, lifting the photo up for him to see, "who's this?"

"I don't know," he replies. "Where'd you find that?"

"It was in your wallet."

"Weird."

"Yeah. Weird that you have another man's photo in your wallet."

"What do you think it is?" he questions, seeing my skepticism.

"I don't know," I answer. "Why don't you tell me who it is?"

"I don't know who it is."

"You don't know."

"Okay, can we just go inside?" he asks.

He walks up to Amber and Andi's house, fast like he does when he's stressed. I don't know what I should think right now, but this situation is just odd. I put the photo back into Jonah's wallet and shove the car door closed.

**Andreas's POV**

When Jonah and Walker come in, everyone greets them, after which, my Grandma and Celia immediately shove their pies in front of them, both doing their best to smile kindly, but you can see the competitiveness in both their eyes.

"Hey," Grandma says, "if either of you get hungry, you should try my pie."

"Or," Celia steps in, her voice so deceptively sweet, "if you don't want food poisoning, try my pie."

Walker nods, saying, "Thanks for the offers. Maybe later."

As soon as they step out of the way, there's another knock on the door, and the Kippens enter in. While Cyrus and TJ stay at the door, Wyatt finds Cara. After removing her coat and shoes, Jayda spots me standing with Oceana and joins us.

She gives both of us a smile, saying, "Hey."

"Hey," Oceana responds. "Loving the dress."

Jayda's dress is simple. It's red, I'm pretty sure, with a low neck and long sleeves.

"Thanks," Jayda responds. "I like your outfit."

Oceana's wearing a white turtle neck with a peach checkered blazer, and a brown—I think it's brown—pleated skirt.

"Thanks," Oceana says. "Everything was from a consignment store."

My mom's voice nearby pulls my focus over as she asks, "Marty, did you bring up the champagne glasses?"

My dad responds with just an awkward smile, and that answers my mom's question.

"You didn't?" she says.

"Nope," Dad replies.

"I can get them," Oceana offers.

One thing about Oceana is she always tries to keep her good impression on my family going. it doesn't matter that they already like her more than they like me. She keeps up her politeness. She's polite to everyone. Even when we pass by crackheads on the street, they're sure to receive a "good day" from her.

"Thanks," my mom responds. "Um, they're in the storage room. Do you know where that is?"

Then Jayda steps up, saying, "I'll show you."

I mean, I could've done that, but it's true that I wasn't planning on offering to. I was perfectly fine staying here with Jayda, but now my girlfriend and friend are leaving to the basement together, so I guess...it be like that sometimes.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

"Where's the light?" Oceana asks as we enter the storage room.

I feel for the chain that dangles from the ceiling and pull it, making the bulb overhead flicker on. It instantly illuminates the piles of storage bins stacked all around, mixed in with a few random items that couldn't be boxed, like a rocking horse, a few sleds, and some hula hoops.

"I've always wanted to try a light like that," Oceana comments.

While I'm starting my search for any bin that might hold champagne glasses, the light shuts off then on again, and I look back to see Oceana letting go of the string with a pleased smile.

"Is your life complete now?" I joke.

"Getting there," she responds with a laugh.

I carry on with searching and soon locate a box titled 'Fancy Cups,' in which I find the champagne glasses. I lift them out and turn around.

"Found them," I say.

"Awesome," Oceana replies.

She walks back over to the door to open it, but the second she touches the doorknob, a clunk sounds from the other side of the door, and then the knob on our side falls to the floor. Oceana tries to pull the door from the nub where the knob should be, but it doesn't open.

"Looks like we're officially in a sitcom plot," Oceana says, turning around to face me.

"Yeah, Marty doesn't fix things that often," I respond. "He just kinda sees how long he can leave things for. Taking a risk on a doorknob probably wasn't the best, though."

Oceana lowers down, bending at her knees rather than her waist, like she must wear skirts a lot and therefore know exactly how to conduct herself in one, and picks up the knob.

"What do we do?" she wonders.

I put the champagne glasses back in the bucket I got them from and say, "I'll text Andreas and get him to find someone who can fix it."


	59. S2 E7.2: New Year's Eve

**Andreas's POV**

I'm just chilling by the stairs when I get a text from Jayda.

 **Jayda:** Hey, so the doorknob kinda broke off, and we're locked in the storage room. Can u get someone to fix it? Pretty please :)

 **Me:** It broke off?

 **Jayda:** Well, it's not on the door anymore so...

 **Me:** Ok. I'm on it.

I push myself away from where I was leaning on the wall and go over to the kitchen to get my one of my parents, but then I see that my dad's in the middle of Celia and Grandma's war, both women watching him with hawk eyes as he chews a bit of each pie. On the side, my mom stands with Amber and Andi, all three of them looking highly concerned.

"Whose do you like best?" my grandma asks.

"I love both," Dad replies.

Celia's smile goes flat as she says, "Unfortunately, that's not an option."

Deciding not to step into that fire, I instead go into the living room where Cyrus, TJ, Jonah and Walker are all seated around, talking.

"Hey," I interrupt, "do any of you know how to fix a doorknob?"

All heads turn to TJ who stands up, saying, "I'm sure I can figure it out."

He follows me down to the basement and down the hall to the last door, and sure enough, the knob is lying on the carpet. I kneel down to grab it, feeling a little surprised even though I don't know what else I was expecting.

"Damn," I mutter. "She wasn't exaggerating."

"Andreas?" comes Oceana's voice through the wood. "Is the doorknob getting fixed?"

"Yup," I answer.

"I've never fixed a doorknob before," TJ tells me, "so I'll have to Google it, but I'm pretty sure I need a screwdriver."

"Those are in the garage," I say.

He nods and starts to walk back down the hall. Before I join him, I lean up to the door once more to inform the girls.

"It's gonna be a bit," I say, "so hang in there."

"Like we have a choice," Jayda's voice retorts.

Her sass makes me laugh a little as I respond, "Love the positive attitude."

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

I wait on a chair in the basement with Brayden, Cara, and Watt sitting on the rest of the furniture until Bex, or Grams, and Bowie, or Gramps, show up. In her hands, Grams is holding a box for a board game, and she has a smile way bigger than that game calls for. What game? _Property_.

"We found the perfect game," she says.

"My daddy told me that game shatters friendships," Wyatt speaks up.

"Come on," Gramps pushes. "I used to play this with my cousins at every holiday."

"I don't care what we play," Cara says with a smirk. "I'm going to crush all of you."

Grams looks a little put off by my cousin's determination, but she begins setting up the game anyway. While she unfolds the game board and takes out the pieces, Brayden makes his own comment.

" _Property_ is the board game embodiment of the American dream," he states. "It suggests that, with hard work, you can prosper."

"I thought hot dogs and baseball was the American dream," Wyatt responds.

"No. That's your dream," Brayden corrects.

"No," Wyatt denies. "My dream is to build a fully-functioning motorboat out of pool noodles."

Grams cuts that thought off, saying, "Okay, I'll distribute the money."

She places the stacks of colourful bills in front of each player, but when she gets to Cara, the girl holds up her hand to stop her.

"I only need twenty dollars," Cara states.

Grams furrows her brows. "You're supposed to get fifteen hundred."

Cara just grins deviously and takes a lone twenty dollar bill from Grams's hands, saying, "I won't need it."

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

With nothing else to do, Oceana and I look through the bins in the room, peering in at all the random stuff. So far, we've found lots of old toys, a collection of compostable plates, and a bunch of old electronics that I'm pretty sure don't work anymore, because none of them turned on.

"Is this how you pictured your New Year's Eve?" I ask as I continue rummaging between the boxes.

"Oh, of course," Oceana replies, leaning back on one stack with her hands in her blazer pockets. "It's not New Year's without being trapped in a storage room."

She laughs, and I feel myself grin. I'm very thankful she's not claustrophobic and can instead just joke about this situation. Otherwise, this would be hell.

Under the next lid I peel up, I find a collection of familiar princess dresses and accessories. I take out one of the plastic, jewelled crowns and hold it up for Oceana to see.

"Wait, are the Driscolls rich, and I didn't know?" she jokes, walking over to examine it better.

"This used to be mine when I was little," I explain, "this and a bunch of other princess costume stuff. Then I gave them to Hazel, and she gave them to Cara. I guess Cara grew out of them."

"Nonsense," Oceana says. "You can never grow out of being a princess. It's every girl's dream."

I smile and look down at the crown again before returning my eyes back up to Oceana. She and the little gemstones actually aren't that different. They both sparkle.

I let out a breath and say, "We might as well get that dream out of the way."

Oceana's eyes follow the crown as I raise it up and place it delicately on her head, tucking the little comb ends of the tiara into the girl's lush hair.

"I'm honoured," she says with a grin.

"No, it's my honour," I reply, "Your Highness."

That makes her giggle, and she steps past me to peek into the bin herself, pulling out another plastic crown.

"Can't forget about you, now can we," she says.

Tingles wash over my scalp as she sets the tiara atop my head. I keep my sight on her after she drops her hands down and admires my image.

"There," she says. "Beautiful."

"Yeah," I breathe.

I feel my face blush as I realize my mistake. She was talking about me. I wasn't. I was talking about her.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

In Marty's garage, there's a wall of shelving with milk crates on every level, each filled with some random woodworking items. One is filled with bags of nails. Another has multiple hammers. The only thing Andreas and I haven't found is the tool we need.

"Where would your dad keep the screwdrivers?" I ask.

"I have no idea," Andreas answers in a huff. "He never uses them."

I pull out the last crate and check it, finding just a half-used roll of sandpaper.

"Well, that's all the crates," I say.

I do another gloss over the shelves to see if I've forgotten anything, then Andreas turns my attention upward.

"TJ," he says, "they could be in that bucket."

Andreas uses the word 'uncle' on and off for me and Cyrus. His younger siblings always use it, but Buffy, Marty, Cyrus and I didn't really decide to use the uncle and aunt thing until both Andreas and Jayda were into their pre-school years, so both of them change the way they refer to each other's parents at random, although I have noticed that Andreas has been just using my name more lately. I don't really care. The only reason I noticed is because Cara and Brayden both feel weird not using 'uncle' to describe Cyrus and I.

Andreas points up at a cardboard box on the very top shelf, just beyond my reach. Andreas is almost taller than me, but not quite, so he can't help.

"Your dad got a ladder?" I ask.

"Definitely," Andreas replies.

"Where is it?"

"Beats me. We've never used it."

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

"This is not possible," I state, staring at the game board.

Cara just smiles smugly as she collects Brayden's money and organizes it with the rest of her massive cash display.

"There's literally nothing you can buy with twenty dollars," I say. "How did you get to four thousand?"

"I told you I was going to win," Cara responds.

"Well, you haven't won yet," Grams reminds her.

Grans focuses all her brain power on the dice as she shakes them and lets them go on the board. Five. Grams moves five squares and ends up on Cara's hotel property.

"Crud," Grams mumbles.

Cara holds out her hand, waiting for Grams to place the cash in her palm, which she does reluctantly. I'm now praying that Cara will have a bad roll to knock her cockiness down a peg, and by some miracle, she does. Her turn lands her in jail, and she glares at the square on the board while the rest of the players all smile.

"What are you gonna do now?" I question happily.

"You can take my Get Out of Jail Free card," Wyatt says, breaking my joy but repairing Cara's.

"Wyatt," Grams says, "why are you giving that to her?"

"We have an alliance," Wyatt explains.

"You can't have alliances," Grams says, but both Cara and Wyatt just wave it off.

"Well, you can't use that card 'till the next round," I state.

"Here," Wyatt says, passing another card to Cara. "Have my Double Turn card."

Gramps's jaw drops. "When did that become a thing?"

Cara smacks the two cards down on the board with a smirk. Right after, Cece and Pat show up, both holding their pies which have few slices taken out of either. Clearly no one wants to contribute to their arguement.

"Would any of you like pie?" Cece asks kindly.

Cara keeps her obnoxious eyes on me as she holds up her hand, in which Pat places a plate with a slice of pie.

"That's one for me," Pat says.

"No fair," Cece argues. "She's your granddaughter." Then she looks at my grams and gramps, asking, "Would you guys like pie?"

Grams puts up her hand, replying, "Mom, keep me out of your competition."

"Fine," Cece huffs. "Guess who's not getting dessert at Chinese New Year."

Grams rolls her eyes, and Cece and Pat go back upstairs to continue bothering other people.


	60. S2 E7.3: New Year's Eve

**Cyrus's POV**

While TJ is still gone with Andreas, I remain with Jonah and Walker in the living room, me sitting on a chair across from them on the couch.

"So yeah, apparently Wyatt does have a friend, and his dad is pretty cool," I conclude. "He's seen my movies too."

"That's great," Jonah responds with his regular, friendly smile.

"Yeah," Walker agrees, slightly less smiley. "Making friends, putting photos of them in your wallet...not telling your husband."

If I didn't notice Walker's eye-flick in Jonah's direction, I would be very confused, but clearly this isn't about me.

"I sense some passive aggression here," I state.

"Jonah had a photo of a man in his wallet and won't tell me who it is," Walker explains.

"I don't know who it is," Jonah responds. "What? Do you think I'm having an affair?"

"No, I know you love me too much to do that," Walker says. "I think you joined another band without telling me, and that's a bandmate."

"That was one time!"

"It was twice!"

"You were in bands?" I say, surprised.

"Sort of," Jonah confesses. "They only lasted a couple days each, so I never bothered to tell you guys."

"Country music," Walker says with a chuckle.

"One was rock," Jonah counters.

"Christian rock. It was great until their fans found out the new guitar player was married to a man, and the band started only playing songs in E flat and C sharp as a way to get him to quit without having to kick him out."

"What's wrong with E flat and C sharp?" I question.

"I had to keep detuning and retuning my guitar," Jonah explains. "And there were so many bar chords, which got really annoying."

I nod and lean forward, saying, "So back to this photo of a man in your wallet."

"I swear I don't know who he is," Jonah pushes.

"Can I see it?" I ask.

Jonah takes the photo out from his wallet and passes it across the coffee table to me. Right away, I know who it is, and I smile at the absurdity of Walker and Jonah fighting over an image of this man.

"Yup," I say. "This is my bubbee."

Jonah and Walker both look stunned by that.

"Jonah," Walker starts, "why do you have a photo of Cyrus's grandfather?"

"I gave Jonah that wallet back in college," I answer for him. "I must've forgotten to take it out."

Jonah puts a proud grin on his face and turns to Walker, saying, " Well, I'm no expert on wallets, but I'm pretty sure you owe me an apology."

Walker sighs. "Jonah, I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions."

"It's okay."

"You still love me?"

Jonah shrugs. "Sure, why not?"

My two friends come together for a brief kiss, during which Cece appears behind them holding two plates of pie.

"Isn't this sweet," she says. "Looks like a pie-worthy moment."

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

I look over at my wife who leans against the kitchen counter beside Andi and Amber, my eyes pleading for her help, but she gives me none. I'm stuck in the middle of Celia and Pat's disagreement again, only now they're trying to give me reasons as to why I should choose each one of them.

"Marty," Celia says, "remember that time I let Andi have a party in my house, and you broke my favorite vase?"

Pat counters with, "Remember that time you married my daughter?"

My eyes go back and forth between them. "Uh..."

I'm so thankful when I see Andreas and TJ enter the kitchen. I don't know what they're here for, but I'm not letting this opportunity pass.

"Oh, yeah, for sure," I shout to them then look at Pat and Celia again, saying, "Sorry, I gotta help them."

I hurry away from the women and over to my son and friend who both just look confused.

"We didn't say anything yet," TJ states.

"I know, but I needed to get out of there. They're telling me to pick a pie, but Pat is my mother-in-law, and Celia is—well—she's scary."

TJ nods. "I get that."

"Isn't she, like, eighty something?" Andreas brings up.

"Andreas," I respond, "age does not diminish a woman's ability to rip the crap out of you with just her glare."

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

"You can do it," Grams encourages.

"Come on, Gramps!" I beg. "Don't let us down."

Gramps holds the dice tight in his hand as he gives Cara a weak look. "Cara, I gave you a succulent last week."

Cara keeps her icy stare and orders, "Roll the dice."

Gramps takes another deep breath before letting the dice drop to the board, and as soon as they stop moving, gloom sinks over everyone except Cara and Wyatt. Our last hope of beating those two rats is gone.

"That's it," Gramps utters. "I'm bankrupt."

Cara and Wyatt leap up in victory and high five each other as they cheer.

"Let's go buy stocks," Cara suggests to Wyatt. "I feel lucky."

"Stocks aren't the same as gambling, so you know," Brayden informs them.

Cara ignores that and pulls Wyatt by the wrist toward the stairs upward. With them gone, the rest of us begin cleaning up the board game, all mopey from our loss.

"I think they cheated," I grumble.

"Oh, they definitely cheated," Grams agrees.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

It's nearly half past eleven, and I'm still in the kitchen with Amber and Buffy, watching Cece and Pat carry on their arguement with just as much passion as when it started.

"My recipe was passed down for generations," Pat says proudly.

"Generations of Youtube chefs," Cece scoffs.

While Pat gasps in offence, I take the situation into my own hands, reaching out for both of the two pies that sit on the edge of the island. Careful to not make a scene that the women will notice, I begin sliding both pies to the left slowly.

"What are you doing?" Amber whispers.

"A favour," I respond.

"Mine won awards," Cece says, even though I'm almost positive that that's a lie.

"Really?" Pat responds with false interest. "They make an award for driest crust?"

The sound of both their pies splattering on the floor shakes them out of their fight as they look in shock at the red mess.

"Oh no," I say, putting on an innocent smile. "I'll clean that up. Looks like the pie fight is irrelevant now."

As I go over to the sink to get some paper towel from the cabinet beneath it, Buffy meets me there to say, "Andi, I love you."

"I only did what had to be done," I respond with a grin.

"It was for the better," Pat sighs. "We were getting too caught up in the competition."

Cece could take the high road too, but this is Cece. She just rolls her eyes and walks away, saying, "Oh, give it a rest."

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

"What time is it?" Oceana wonders.

She looks across the room at me from where she sits on the floor, her back resting against the wall by the door. We've run out of things to keep us entertained at this point. Now we're just waiting.

I pick up my phone from where I'd placed it on top of a bin and check its digital clock.

"11:57," I answer.

"Almost midnight." She lets out a faint chuckle. "This isn't exactly how I planned to ring in the new year, but I suppose there are worse ways." She pauses before adding, "And worse people to be stuck with."

"Well, at least we have those champagne glasses."

I open a bottle I found in one of the cupboards in the back corner of the room and pour the liquid into two of the clear glasses. Keeping one for myself, I walk over to where Oceana is and hold a glass out for her.

"Oh, no, thanks," she says nervously.

"That's cute. You're a good girl. But relax. It's just sparkling apple juice."

She releases a laugh and accepts the drink. I slide down to the floor beside her as she takes a sip, then I take a swig of my own. Right away, I can tell it tastes way too sour to still be good.

"How old is this apple juice?" Oceana asks.

"I'd rather not know."

We both laugh a little and set down our glasses on the floor. With nothing else to do, I reach for my phone again.

"11:59," I say.

"You know," Oceana starts, "I thought this would be the first year I got a kiss at midnight."

"That would be romantic. Like a movie."

"Well, we are in the middle of a sitcom plot," she recalls.

That makes me laugh again, and she watches me, smiling. Then something weird happens. When I stop laughing, it's like everything else stops too. Suddenly, I become so aware of my own heartbeat and the way Oceana's eyes glitter back my reflection, and the twirling in my chest, and how her eyes aren't looking at my eyes anymore. They're lower. And then my eyes aren't looking at her eyes anymore. They're on her lips. And any common sense I ever had vanishes like smoke in the wind. There's only one goal: ruining this safe little barrier of air between us. And it's happening. We're almost there. One more inch. Less than that. I feel her breath like heat from a fire.

Cheering from the floor above tells me that it's now midnight, and thank God, because that rumble of voices manages to startle my brain into working again, and I pull away.

"No, I can't," I say as I cover my face with my hands to hide the humiliation of what I was about to do. "You're my friend's girlfriend."

"No, you're right," Oceana replies, her voice just as uneven as mine. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot."

She pushes herself onto her feet to walk away, and I drop my hands, desperately saying, "No, I didn't—"

I shut up. There's no way for me to end that sentence. Anything I say would surely either end up being an instant crossing of a line I shouldn't with an untouchable girl—or a lie.

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and I can't tell if it's too soon or not soon enough. Andreas, Marty, and my papa all enter in. Oceana immediately runs up to hug Andreas, and I feel sick watching it. There's my friend, whom I care about more than most people on this planet, hugging his girlfriend who was going to kiss someone else if I hadn't stopped it. I want to tell him. I want to tell him to get away from her, that she doesn't like him like she should. But that would be stupid, wouldn't it? Because I'm the girl she almost cheated on him with, and if I say anything, I expose myself too. And if I'm being honest, if it were anyone other than Andreas, I wouldn't care about her unfaithfulness, because I like her. I have a crush on my friend's girlfriend. Didn't I just tell Hazel I was straight? Yeah, apparently that was a lie. _Ugh! What kind of_ _selfish_ _bitch tries to kiss their friend's girlfriend?_ _What do I even do now?_

"Want help up?" my dad asks.

I guess that's what I do. I stand up.

"Sorry it too us so long," Andreas says.

"None of us knew where the screwdrivers were," Papa elaborates.

"No, it's alright," Oceana says. Then she links her hand firmly through Andreas's. "Um, let's go join everyone else upstairs."

The couple exits, and Marty follows after them. Andreas gives me a soft smile on his way out, but Oceana doesn't even look at me.

Now just me and him, Papa turns to me, saying, "You may have missed the new year, but there's still plenty of food. But no pie."

"Thanks, Dad," I respond quietly.

We go upstairs together, joining the rest of the family. I know it's all in my head, but I feel like they're all judging me, like they know what happened—or almost happened—and they think I'm horrible. Andreas and Oceana are sitting together on the stairs, so I head in a different direction, going to sit down on one of the living room chairs, the wring in my gut still in full bloom. A moment later, my brother comes over.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm perfect," I lie, but it makes me feel even grosser. "I'm fine. I...don't know."

"I was just looking for a 'yeah' so that I could move on," Wyatt explains.

_Of course._

"Yeah," I force out. "I'm okay."

"Cool," he responds with a smile, but his smile droops when he sees that mine isn't going to come back, and he asks, "Do you want a hug?"

With all the emotions flooding my body right now, that question almost makes me cry, but I manage to hold it in and shake my head.

"Nah, I'm good," I say. "Thanks, though."

"No problem."

He carries on toward Cara, and I remain in my chair, trying not to let my eyes wander back to Oceana and Andreas every time I blink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all still don't know how this season is going to close, which I'm excited about. Thank you guys for reading. I hope you are excited to see the next parts. I'll inform you that there will be a little mini hiatus after episode nine before the last episodes of the season are posted. Goodbye! See you Friday with episode 8.


	61. S2 E8.1: The Shady Side of Shadyside

**TJ's POV**

The coffee maker spills brown into Cyrus's mug as Wyatt sits at the kitchen table eating his cereal, and I finish eating my bagel. Jayda makes her entrance right as the last drop of coffee hits Cyrus mug, and she winds around the counter to pick it up for herself.

"Dads, I'm bisexual," she announces.

Cyrus steals the cup back from her, saying, "No."

She gives him a confused look, and then Cyrus realizes the timing issue. I don't think it fully processed in his head what our daughter has just said.

"This is my coffee," he elaborates.

Jayda rolls her eyes at that and places a hand on her hip. "So, my bisexuality. What's our stance?"

"We are good," I reply casually. "Congrats."

I never really thought Jayda would be bisexual, but she does have a clear phone case, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

"We love and support you," Cyrus says with a soft smile.

She claps her hands together once, responding, "Awesome."

Then she looks over at her brother, awaiting his answer, but he's still mixing his cereal around until it becomes milky slop.

"Wyatt," Cyrus calls. "Anything you want to say?"

"No," he answers. "I don't care."

Jayda goes over to him with a smile and starts rubbing her hand around his hair, saying, "You're a good little twerp, you know that?"

Wyatt slaps her hand away, annoyed, and she carries on back around the island to go into the pantry. While she's choosing her breakfast, the doorbell sounds, and Cyrus go over to answer it. Curious, I peek around the corner and see Cyrus lugging a package into the living room. When I see the bookstore's logo on the box, I walk over to him in shock.

"More books?" I say.

"Reading is food for the soul," he responds.

"Too bad you don't read any of them."

"What do you mean?"

As he's asking that, he's trying to shove the new books he just got onto our bookshelf in the living room. The rest of the books are already packed tight on there, and some are being stacked on top of other books. Cyrus tucks the new books into whatever cracks he can find, while I watch him struggle.

"Cyrus, you've got to stop buying books you aren't gonna read. Let's just donate the ones you don't actually plan on picking up to people who will actually enjoy them."

"I read a ton of them," Cyrus argues.

"You only read the books on psychology or the biographies," I counter. "I've never seen you even pick up one of the thousand novels."

"I have."

"Really?" I say, raising my eyebrows.

I step up to the bookshelf and grab the first book I see, pulling it out. It's perfectly flat and smooth, but after I peel open the cover once and let it go, the cover is bent, proving that this book has never been opened before. Cyrus just looks at it with disappointed eyes.

"That proves nothing," Cyrus says.

"It proves that you aren't going to read any of these," I insist. "They're just taking up space. it's going to become a fire hazard soon."

"No, it's a learning hazard."

"Still a hazard."

"These books are important to me," he pouts.

"You've never read any of them! They can't be important to you!"

"Yes, I have!"

I take a step back, crossing my arms. "Then you won't mind if I ask you some questions about their plots?"

"Not at all," Cyrus responds, "but let's do this tomorrow, because you have to get to work."

"You're lucky I do," I say.

Although his difficulty over this is bothersome, his grin is still cute, so I step up and give him a kiss before retreating toward the door to collect my coat and bag.

**Cyrus's POV**

I wave my husband goodbye as he leaves to go to the fire station, then as soon as the door shuts, I race back into the kitchen and get my kids' attention.

"Okay, what are you guys doing today?"

"Uh, school," Wyatt replies.

Right. I forgot about that.

"I'm down to skip," Jayda says.

"No, you're not," I state. "We'll just start after school."

"Start what?" Jayda questions.

"I need you guys to help me research and memorize a hundred plus books."

"You haven't actually read any of those," Jayda concludes.

"There's never enough time," I pout.

"Exactly," she agrees. "Now, if you could remember that when you get my report card—"

"Jayda, you don't have a job or two kids. You have time. But not today, because you're going to help me."

She drops her head downward, already exhausted.

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Walker and I stand in the line outside Shadyside's largest instrument store. Usually, I would only buy from Red Rooster Records, but we only sell some basic instruments and have a very limited selection. This place has everything from pianos to cymbals, but what I care about is the limited edition guitar designed by one of my favorite guitar players, Terri "Tenth Freth" Marden.

"Okay, they're about to open," I say for the third time in one minute.

"Calm down," Walker tells me. "There are only six people in front of us."

"Yeah, but they only carry one of the guitar per day."

He furrows his brows. "That's a bad promotion."

"I know. Whoever manages the store wants to really annoy customers."

All of a sudden, a voice sounds out behind us, saying, "I'm not trying to do that."

I spin around, and it takes me a minute, but I soon recognize him behind his glasses and red hair. I haven't seen him since high school, but he still looks pretty much the same, though taller and with a deeper voice. On his shirt is a nametag labelled 'manager.'

"Gus?" I say. "You're the manager? When did you get into music?"

"I didn't," he answers. "When I was in college, I had a job as a sign spinner for the chicken place across the street, and one day the manager of this store had a heart attack and dropped dead, so the other employees panicked and offered me the job."

"Well, uh, good for you," I say, "I think."

"Why do you have only one guitar per day?" Walker asks.

"Terri Marden only ships us one per day," Gus explains. "I can't control it."

Terri Marden has always been a little eccentric, so I guess his business skills don't fall short of that.

"It's okay," I say. "I don't blame you."

"Uh, well you might," he responds, looking over my shoulder, "because the store just opened, and someone got your guitar."

I spin around, seeing the doors open, and everyone from the line has gone in. Now someone is walking out holding the deep blue guitar I wanted.

"I'm sorry," Gus apologizes.

"It's okay, Gus. We'll come back tomorrow."

Walker raises his eyebrows. "We will? Can't we just buy a normal guitar and paint it to look like that one?"

"You can't," Gus replies for me. "I've offered that to customers before, and they do not respond well."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

"Okay, class, listen up," says Mr. Zimmermann, my history teacher, in his English accent. "Today, you'll be starting a project." The entire class groans in response, which makes Mr. Zimmermann snap, saying, "You know what? I just had my kidney removed, and I didn't have half the negative attitude you all have, so quiet down."

Kelsey turns around in her desk ahead of me, whispering, "I thought maybe we would have at least a week after winter break before we got assignments again."

A hand spikes up from the rows of desks, and the boy who wears a red ball cap even during gym class asks, "Is this a group project?"

Mr. Zimmermann nods. "Yes, it is."

That receives a spew of cheers.

"Enjoy it for now," Mr. Zimmermann tells us. "Once you get to college, you'll beg for independent projects again. Now, for the project, each group will have to do a presentation on a famous explorer of your choice."

Linny turns to look at Kelsey and I, saying, "I'm thinking let's avoid being basic and choosing Columbus. How about Vasco Da Gama?"

"Did I say I was done talking!" Mr. Zimmermann whines to the chattering class.

Everyone hushes again while he recollects himself and carries on calmly, like he didn't just have a miniature explosion.

"You'll be in pairs that I'll be choosing."

"Booooooooo!" It's like my schoolmates are some kind of live studio audience.

"Booing me won't work," Mr. Zimmermann states. "I was the accident child of a family of eight doctors. My parents booed me for years."

It gets quiet quickly after that uncomfortable information.

"Now, I used a random generator to create teams," Mr. Zimmermann says, pulling out a list from his pocket. "Team one: Barry and Larry. Team two: Sherry and Mary. My goodness, we have a lot or rhyming names in this class." He lets out a laugh before saying, "Anyway," and continuing on. Eventually, I hear my name, and I perk up, but the name following mine is about the worst name he could say. "Brayden and Deion."

Before I can make my apprehension vocal to my friends, Kelsey does so with hers, muttering, "You've got to be kidding."

Mr. Zimmermann finishes reading the names and concludes with, "Okay, go talk to your partners. I have to call Wayfair about a couch that never got delivered."

The teacher exits the classroom to make his call, and the class begins diving up into their teams, but while my friends head off, I remain in my seat and just turn back to see Deion first. He's looking at me too, and he doesn't look particularly angry, so I force myself up from my seat and make my way over to his desk.

"So," I say, "do you want to get together to start our project maybe after school today?"

"Yeah, I guess," he mutters, his eyes switching from me to other things and back to me frequently.

"Good. I could come to your house, or—"

"No," he says before I can finish. "Uh, my house is under renovations. Can we go to yours?"

Although taken aback by his quick denial, I agree, "Yeah, okay."

I wonder how my parents will take to me bringing my bully home? I figure this can't be a common thing for kids to do. I'll have to be sure to double check that none of our photos have been vandalized when he leaves.

"Um, do you want to meet by my locker after school to take the bus there?" I suggest. "I know you know where my locker is."

"Sure," Deion responds, and that's the end of our conversation.


	62. S2 E8.2: The Shady Side of Shadyside

**Brayden's POV**

The typical routine occurs around me as the last bell of the day rings. Students flood the halls like a tsunami, their chatter rippling through in sound waves. After getting my coat on my backpack packed, I stand in front of my closed locker, waiting for one of the faces walking by to be the right one. Minutes pass on, and although it's not the one I need, I am delighted to see Kelsey's face emerge beside me.

"Where's the jerk?" she asks.

"Somewhere," I respond dully. "Hopefully."

"I can't believe how mature you're being about this," she says. "If I were partnered with that guy, I would've punched his face in already."

I laugh at that. Kelsey's the kind of person who makes common threats of violence but would never actually act on them. She avoids stepping on worms when it rains. She would never lay a hand on a human being.

"I have to catch my bus," she says. "Tell me how it goes."

I nod, and she heads off, leaving me in the hallway. The bodies begin to drain out, and still there's no sign of Deion. He could've forgotten, but I don't have his phone number, so I can't message him to find out.

From the left end of the hallway, I spot Wyatt with his cluster of friends, all of them running down the corridor excitedly.

"How long do you think he'll last?" one of the boys shouts.

"I don't know, but we gotta take photos before he's down!" another replies.

I have no idea what that's about, but I don't care, and I don't have time. My bus is going to leave. And Deion's not here. I suppose it was credulous of me to think he would show up. I push myself off my locker and join the rest of the students exiting the building.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

Andi and I are in the middle of binging _Queer Eye_ when Hazel walks up to us with her little brown teddy bear.

"Hey," she says, "so I hear Uncle TJ is maybe donating some books, so that gave me the genius idea to donate this finally."

Andi's eyes immediately go sad. "You want to donate Snuggles? That bear was your favorite when you were little."

"It's creepy," Hazel states. "It's missing an eye, and the voice box is degrading."

She gives the bear's matted fur a squeeze in the stomach, and what comes out is not the sweet voice it used to have. Rather, it sounds like it's both underwater and in a blender as the voice cuts in and out, wavering in pitch, saying, "Let's be friends _forever._ " It dips in pitch on the last word, only elevating how disturbing it sounds.

"Yeah, that's messed up," I say.

"So you agree," Hazel concludes.

Andi shakes her head. "I don't agree. This bear has so many memories. Don't you want to keep it to give to your kids one day?"

"If I hate my kids so much that I want to give them night terrors, I will do that."

"It can't be that bad," Andi responds.

"Sometimes the bear gets knocked, making it talk in the middle of the night without anyone going near it," Hazel says.

"You're being dramatic."

"I don't know," I join in. "I'd want to get rid of it."

"It has sentimental value!" Andi argues. She lets out a huff, saying, "I've got a sculpture to work on now, so goodbye."

With that, she gets up and heads for her studio.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

Wyatt sits on the chair across from mine in the basement with flashcards. Around us is a mountain of books that I've been skimming through, although I've only made it through about ten of them, and I haven't retained much of the information.

"Okay," Wyatt says, reading off a flashcard. "The main characters of Little Women are...?"

I rack my brain for the answers, finding a few that feel right, so I say them. "Jo, Beth...Anne—"

"Wrong! Jo, Beth, _Amy_ , and Marge."

"Got it."

I grab another book and open it, glossing my eyes over all the pages, trying to latch onto the important words, while Wyatt flips to the next card.

"What year is Brave New World set in?" he questions.

"2540?"

"Wrong!"

"You don't need to yell."

"I'm not yelling," he denies. "I'm projecting."

"That's just a nice word for yelling."

That's when Jayda shows up with her laptop, looking at me in pity.

"Wow, you're actually reading the books?"

"Skimming them," I correct.

"Cute. You've clearly never faked reading a book before," she says. "Put down the book, and let me show you the magic of Snapnotes." She sits down on the couch and opens up her laptop. "Any book you need, you'll find a whole summary on this website."

"It's concerning that you know this so well," I say.

"Hey, if I actually read the books I was supposed to read for English, I'd be doing way worse than I am right now, because I would never make it past the first chapter. Also, you think anyone would know what Shakespeare is talking about without looking it up?"

She makes a valid point. Even I relied on the translations in the bottom of each page when reading those plays in high school.

She clicks a button on her laptop, saying, "Now get ready to fill your brain with a bunch of useless themes and motifs."

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Day two. Walker and I are first in line this time, so we have to get the guitar. We just have to wait. We wait while everyone else starts lining up outside the instrument store, and the parking lot reaches capacity.

"We better get it today," Walker mumbles.

"We will," I reply.

I'm feeling pretty good about this. There's no way we could not get it today. But then the person behind me in line taps my shoulder, and I look around to see his glum face.

"Excuse me, but my mom is dying, and her last wish was this guitar."

How can I keep his dying mom from getting this guitar? I suppose I can come back tomorrow.

"When she's dead, she won't need a guitar," Walker responds before I can let the guy go ahead of us.

I frown at my husband. "That was harsh."

"Would you rather have to come back tomorrow?"

I guess not, but I still feel bad. When we both turn forward again, Walker suddenly spots something happening in the parking lot, and I look over to see a loose bill fallen from a man's pocket.

"Someone dropped his money," Walker says. "I'm gonna go return it. Don't move."

"Sure thing."

He heads out of line to get the bill, but while he's away, I get another tap on my shoulder, and I glance back.

"Excuse me," a woman says. "You budged me."

"Oh, sorry."

I step back with a kind smile, letting her go ahead, but when Walker returns, he looks at her and then at me in shock.

"Jonah."

"We accidentally budged in front of her," I explain.

"Jonah, we were the first ones here."

Oh, yeah. We were. My bad.

Before we can reclaim our spot, the doors to the store open, and everyone runs inside. A moment later, Gus walks out and finds us.

"Sorry, guys," he says. "Guitar's taken."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

When I walk into history class, my eyes immediately go to Deion who's sitting at the back of the class. He watches me the from the second I appear, but I'm done with him. I don't need to deal with this. I don't even need to talk to him, so I'm not going to. Linny and Kelsey observe my cold exterior as I drop down into my desk.

"I take it the project didn't go well?" Linny assumes.

"It didn't go at all," I reply.

"What did he do?" Kelsey asks.

"It's what he didn't do. He didn't show up."

"Of course he would do something like that," Linny grumbles. "I bet he's waiting for you to do all the work."

"Well, it doesn't matter, because I made an agreement with the teacher this morning to make sure I'm not penalized for his lack of effort."

"Smart," Linny responds.

But then her eyes drift up above my head, and I turn around to see Deion standing there. I can't tell whether he's sorry or just annoyed. I've never seen him sorry before.

"What do you want, Deion?" Kelsey questions.

Deion ignores her, focusing on me instead. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't show up. Something came up."

"Something that kept you from letting me know you couldn't make it?" I press.

"Yeah, that's pathetic," Linny snarls.

Deion rolls his eyes and asks, "Can we talk away from you backup girls?"

Kelsey gasps. "Excuse you—"

"Yes," I answer, cutting her off.

I love my friends, but with them being so forceful in their protectiveness, it keeps me from being able to get a complete understanding of the situation, so I stand up and walk with Deion toward the back of the room.

He turns to face me. "About yesterday—"

"It's fine," I interrupt. "I already talked to Mr. Zimmermann about the partnership's unequal effort, so he'll be marking me independently for my part."

Deion looks down, muttering, "Oh, okay." A moment later, he brings his chin up again, saying, "Look, can we try meeting up again? I promise I won't skip this time."

"Can't. My sister's having a slumber party today."

"Well, what if we go to my house?" he offers.

"I thought your house was under renovations."

He stays quiet, and I get the feeling that that story wasn't exactly true. I just wonder why he would lie about that.

"Fine," I agree.

"Cool," he says, looking relieved. "I'll find you after school. For real this time."

"I'll be holding you to that."


	63. S2 E8.3: The Shady Side of Shadyside

**Brayden's POV**

I'm surprised when Deion pushes the stop button on the bus and begins to stand up.

"Here?" I check.

"Yeah."

The bus driver pulls over against the cracking cement curb of Woodlawn, a neighbourhood I've purposefully never stepped foot in. But here I am, stepping down onto the sidewalk, next to a boy who still decently terrifies me. What if he's only brought he here to to something bad to me? Am I going to get jumped? My hardly exhaustive list of shady tales based in Woodlawn that I've heard from friends and acquaintances include muggings, assaults, several break-ins, and of course drug cartels. I've also heard that there are members of a mafia group around here. Of course, I hold sparse details about any of these events, but I was quite frankly comfortable with never seeing the place first-hand.

The houses here don't feel real. They feel like the type of buildings from which would spawn an excellent short story about the perils of life, with their peeling sidings and rustic garden decorations dusted in snow. One woman watches us from her porch steps as we walk by. She's smoking something that smells the way Andreas does after he gets home late from parties and makes me swear not to tell mom and dad that he was ever out. I feel unsettled, but Deion has no such reaction. This is simply normal to him.

"This is where you live?" I say.

"Yeah," he replies shyly.

"Oh. Interesting."

We continue down the block, and I realize I've quickly gained a habit of looking behind me every few steps. I sense Deion's eyes lifting up to me at random intervals as our silence progresses, and eventually he breaks it.

"I'm sorry," he utters. "I should've told you."

"No, it's okay," I insist.

"You sure? You seem a little thrown off."

I shake my head. "I've just never—I've never met anyone who lives...over here. I've never been here either."

"Yeah, Woodlawn kind of has a bad rep," he admits. "But the people here are nice. Mostly. Just don't go out at night. But during the day, it's chill."

Across the street is a house with a spectacularly unkempt lawn. The yellow grass is knee high, muddy from the January precipitation, and folding over on itself. Where there's not grass, dead weeds stick to the stone pathway that leads up to the door. Deion notices where my attention's gone to and begins to explain it.

"That's Dave's house."

"Dave can't mow the lawn?" I ask.

"He works three jobs. Doesn't have the time."

I feel contrite for having assumed the owner simply didn't care. I guess since my family has always had good jobs and enough money, so I didn't consider that someone else wouldn't.

We keep walking, and I notice a huddle of teenage boys farther down the street all talking around a car.

"Who are those kids?" I ask.

"Oh, don't look at them," Deion tells me.

I keep my head away from them as instructed and carry onward, following Deion like a boat to a lighthouse.

"Boy!" comes a shout from the house left of us, and I look over to see a an old lady on a rocking chair on the porch. "You from here?" She's talking to Deion.

"Hi, Mrs. Wilders," Deion responds. "I'm Deion. I hope you're having a good day."

"Oooh, polite," the woman says with a grin. "Your parents brought you up right."

While we move along, Deion looks to me, explaining, "She has dementia. I say hi to her everyday, but she can never remember my name."

I glance back at the lady again, wondering how such a smiley person could be ill. But I don't get much time to ponder it before Deion curves up a pathway.

"This is my house," he says.

It's a tiny bungalow, similar to the rest, but not like the cookie cutter houses of my neighbourhood. It's unique. Green window trim. Mustard yellow door. Metal wind spinner sticking out from the grass. Large oak tree raining branches over the street. Many of the trees here are like that. They cover the road. I bet it must be beautiful in the summer when the leaves form a blanket ceiling.

Deion unlocks his door with the house key he wears on a string like a necklace tucked in his shirt. Inside, there's not much of an entryway. Rather, it's a long, white-tiled hallway. I remove my shoes and coat, leaving the jacket on the little bench along the wall where he leaves his. I follow him down the hall, past a little living room and into a humble kitchen with about a quarter of the counter space that my kitchen has. In there, a woman in a red dress and apron smiles at us.

"Hi, Mom," Deion greets.

"Deion," she says, looking between me and him, "you didn't say you were having a friend over."

"We're partners for a school project," he explains.

I give the woman a polite nod, saying, "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. King."

"You don't gotta be so fancy," she replies with a chuckle. "Just Dianne's fine. And what should I call you?"

"Brayden."

"Well, I am so happy to meet one of Deion's friends. I haven't met one of those in years—"

Deion shuts her down with a grunt and a head shake, and Dianne redirects her comment to a farewell.

"Well, I'll leave you boys to your homework. Deion, there're leftovers in the fridge for you and Jamar. Have a good night, okay, sweetie?"

She bends over to give Deion a kiss on the cheek, at which he scrunches his face in embarrassment. Then she leaves for the door, grabbing her purse on the way. Once she's gone, I look over at Deion, puzzled.

"Where's she going?" I wonder.

"Work."

"This late?"

"She works the night shifts as a server at a restaurant a few blocks down."

"What does your dad do?"

That question catches Deion off guard as he says, "Uh...he's...not around."

"Oh."

There's an awkward moment of nothing until Deion says, "Uh, let's start with the project."

He takes his books out of his backpack and drops them on the kitchen table. While I do the same, I notice movement coming from farther down the hall where I assume the bedrooms must be. Out comes a little boy, around five or so in age, who looks like a little version of Deion. In his hands he carries a stack of pink flashcards with words in bold letters.

"Deion," he says in an high-pitched voice, "can you help me with my words?"

"Jamar, uh, I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"It's okay," I say.

Deion looks at me, checking, "Are you sure?"

I nod.

"Who is he?" Jamar questions.

Deion answers, "That's G—uh, Brayden."

I end up smiling a little at that. I don't know whether it's because he used my actual name, or because his stutter was amusing. Maybe both.

"Are you his friend?" Jamar asks me.

Hardly, actually, but I don't want to tell the real story to this little boy, so I end up drawing out my response, saying, "Well...um..."

"Yeah," Deion answers for me, and I'm surprised, but not in a bad way. "Okay, J, give me the flashcards."

Jamar hands them over to Deion and climbs up onto the chair beside him at the table. Deion begins testing the boy on each word, letting Jamar try to read them aloud and cheering when he gets one right. I never pegged Deion as being like this—a nice, big brother. I guess I was wrong about a few things.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

When I hear footsteps from upstairs, I know it's time for Wyatt to put down the flashcards and Jayda to shut the laptop.

"Time's up," I say. "It's the moment of truth."

The three of us head upstairs right as TJ enters the kitchen. Wyatt and Jayda go over to the table to sit down, and I review all the plots of every book I just studied in my head.

"There you are," TJ says. "What were you guys up to?"

"Nothing of interest," I lie. "How was work?"

"A kid was stuck in a tree after a very extreme wedgie, so that was kinda unique."

"Aww, you got Malroy down?" Wyatt complains. "We were all betting on how long he'd stay there for."

"Wyatt," I say, concerned, "you didn't—"

"I didn't put him there," he answers before I finish. "I'm the good guy. I threw lunch up to him during recess."

I feel better about that and return my attention to TJ.

"So are you going to quiz me on the books?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah," he remembers. Then he takes his phone out of his jacket pocket and starts reading off it. "Okay, first one. Who's the protagonist of _1984_?"

"Uh, Winston Smith," I recall.

"Good. How about who wrote _The Grass Dancer_?"

"Susan Power."

"Huh," he says, tucking his phone away. "I guess you do read those books. Alright. I'll shut up about you buying more."

"Wait, that's it?" I say, shocked and kind of annoyed.

TJ just shrugs. I spent two days memorizing a million random facts to be asked only two questions.

"Don't you want to ask me more?"

"To be honest, I only searched up those two things," he confesses.

"Oh, well, I've read them all," I insist.

He nods. "I got that."

He begins walking away toward the hall, and now the guilt hits me. Whenever I lie to TJ, he always figures it out, but he's not figuring this out. I'm a horrible person for lying and getting away with it. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jayda glaring at me firmly, silently telling me not to crack, but I'm too fragile for that.

"TJ, wait," I call out. "I lied. I didn't read any of those books."

Jayda shoots up to her feet, huffing, "Does my effort mean nothing to you?" She glares at me as she walks out of the room, muttering, "Shame."

"You didn't read them?" TJ says.

"No," I confess. "I read Snapnotes to learn all the summaries."

From the table, Wyatt mumbles, "Waste of nine hours."

"I like books," I continue, "and I like getting new ones."

"Well, the point of books are to read them," TJ states.

"I know, and now that I know the plot to every one of them, reading them seems redundant."

TJ smiles, stepping in as he says, "So..."

I sigh. "I'll start a donation pile."

TJ makes two fists of joy, whispering, "Yes."

He gives me a kiss on the lips, and I pout as he backs away.

"Happy?" I ask.

"Very."

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

An eery sound wakes me up in the middle of the night, and I recognize it right away.

"Let's be friends _forever_."

Amber is still sound asleep, so I decide to check out the situation for myself. The strange thing about it, and the reason my heart is pumping so heavily, is that the voice wasn't coming from Hazel's room. It was coming from farther, all the way in the kitchen. As I enter the space, I flick on the light, and my eyes adjust to the brightness. I figure this time to adjust is why I can't see the bear right away, but after a minute, it's still not in sight.

Then the phrase repeats from behind me, and I startle around, screaming, finding the bear sitting on the kitchen counter, looking at me. Hazel comes into the kitchen with her arms folded and a grin, followed by an exhausted Amber.

"One day that scream will have sentimental value," Hazel mocks.

"Okay, I see your point," I admit, "but it still has so many memories attached to it."

"I have a solution," Amber says.

She opens the drawer nearby and pulls out a knife. Then she stabs the bear in the back, slicing it open, and removes its sound box. The batteries pop out as soon as she takes off the cover, and she drops the plastic and batteries on the counter before handing the bear back to Hazel, stuffing sticking out of its back.

"Well, it's still missing an eye and overall gives big Chucky vibes," Hazel says, "but I guess I can keep it in my closet."

"And then Andi can find an eye to sew on and fix it up," Amber adds.

"That seems fair," I agree.

"But if it starts showing up in random places around my room," Hazel says, "it's going in the shredder."

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

"How come Walker couldn't come today?" Buffy asks me as we stand in line outside the store for my third day.

"He worked early," I answer.

"What about your job?"

"Oh, I took vacation time to get this guitar." Then I check my watch again. "It's almost opening."

"All you have to do is not move," Buffy states. "You think you can do that?"

I nod, but then my eye catches on a stand outside the restaurant next door.

"Hey, free corn dogs!"

Buffy pulls me back by the wrist when I start to walk away, and I remember my goal. Okay, the store should be opening right about...

The doors open, and a bunch of teenagers run in ahead of us, causing my jaw to drop. Not again!

"Jackasses!" Buffy shouts.

"Buffy, they're kids," I say.

"So they can run ahead of us?"

That's when Gus steps out of the store, and I catch the last bit of him telling the teenagers, "Sorry, no guitar today. Already sold."

As the kids walk away, Gus comes over to me and Buffy.

"Who bought it?" I ask.

"I did," he replies. "For you."

I'm in disbelief. "Gus, you didn't have to do that."

"Well, you're paying he back," he states.

"Right," I say. Him buying it without expecting money in return was too much for me to assume anyway. "Thanks still."

"Anything for a fellow Space Otter," he responds with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of Jayda and Oceana and Andreas next part. Also, next part will be the last one before another short break. Thank you guys for reading!


	64. S2 E9.1: Andreas's Girl

**Amber's POV**

I enter the kitchen holding a daisy yellow skirt with a white blazer, and Andi and Hazel both look my way from the table to see.

"What do you think of this?" I ask.

"I think it's a little fancy for leftover night," Hazel replies, "but it's cute."

"It's not for now," I say, bringing my arms down. "I have a job interview coming up, and I want to get this right."

"You have an interview?" Andi responds in surprise. "For what?"

"Not that window cleaning company that said working for them gave you a special tax exemption, right?" Hazel asks. "Because I'm pretty sure they're not gonna be in business much longer."

"No. It's for a magazine that writes articles about the environment, including its issues and technological advances in that area."

"Green Tea Magazine?" Andi responds. "My dad had a subscription to that, although he thought the name was misleading."

"He thought it was a magazine about tea?" Hazel assumes.

"Yeah," Andi confirms.

"I really want this job," I say. "I love working for your mom, but with the amount of times customers have used me as a therapist, I'm going to need to start going to a therapist if I don't get out of there."

"Everybody could use therapy," Hazel tells me. "That's what my therapist says."

"Yeah, too bad having good mental health costs so much," I respond. "Now, back to the outfit. Yes or no?"

"Yes," Andi answers. "Now come eat dinner."

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Since New Year's, there's been a total shift in the way everything feels, like someone switched the colour of the lightbulbs. It all used to be cool white: plain, easy; and now it's magenta: hot, loud. I've come to terms with my sexuality, but the situation with Oceana hasn't really been resolved, like, at all. She's still with Andreas. I don't know how long that will keep going. I still haven't said anything to Andreas. I don't know what I would say. And she hasn't really tried to talk to me—until now.

While standing at my locker at the end of the school day, I see her silhouette approach to my right, and I close my locker door, instantly becoming uncomfortable with how close we are. She's wearing perfume that smells like roses. _That bitch. She can't do this to me._

"Hey," she says.

"Hey."

I fold my arms over my chest, trying to repress the pounding behind my ribs, but it's not working.

"Uh..." She looks down momentarily before starting her point. "I know we haven't really talked much, but I think we should."

"There's really nothing to talk about," I state, trying to sound confident, though I'm obviously nervous as hell.

"Jayda, call me crazy, but I thought we almost kissed."

"No, you almost kissed me," I hiss, making sure nobody around us is listening. "You're the one who almost cheated on your boyfriend."

"I just think we need to figure this out."

"There's nothing to figure out, Oceana. You're with Andreas, therefore this"—I motion between us—"can never be a thing."

I pick up my backpack and am about to leave when a student with dyed blue hair and a T-shirt that reads 'Let's Get Me Some Trans Rights' comes up to Oceana and me with a stack of tiny paper flyers.

"I'm getting some big bi vibes from you two," they say and hold out a flyer. "Pride club is having a pride fair next week. Make sure to attend."

Out of politeness, I take the flyer, but Oceana shakes her head. The kid moves on, and I return my icy glare to the girl standing before me.

"You don't have pride?" I ask coldly.

"I'm just not into that stuff," she responds.

"Is that why you're still with Andreas?"

She hesitates for a second before answering, "I like Andreas."

"Awesome. Then why are you bothering talking to me?"

It's a rhetorical question, one that I don't wait to hear her fumble to answer. I step away and strut down the hall, leaving Oceana in the distance.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

I measure the chili powder and drop the spice into the bowl while Andreas comes down the stairs, passing by his brother who sits on the living room couch with a book in hand.

"You're reading the Communist Manifesto?" Andreas observes with a laugh. "Aren't you, like, a die-hard capitalist?"

"My stance is swaying," Brayden mutters, keeping his eyes on the pages.

Andreas carries on to head downstairs, and Cara descends the steps next, taking his place with a disgusted expression.

"Ew! Commie!" she shouts at Brayden.

"I'm enlightening myself!" Brayden defends. "Will you all leave me be! There are some very good points in here."

Cara keeps her eyes narrowed as she continues downstairs, and Brayden gets back to his reading. But I can no longer focus on my cooking due to the racket of bass thumping and young adults shouting for someone to chug from the yard next door.

"Woah, someone's having a good time," Marty says as he enters from the mudroom.

He just got home from work, and of course he's greeted with the noise of the barbecue occurring beside us.

"Okay, I am getting sick of our neighbours," I say. "They have these loud, obnoxious barbeques every night, and they always go well past the ten when the law prohibits loud noises."

"If it persists a few more weeks, you could sue them for nuisance," Brayden suggests.

"I don't need to sue them. I just need them to stop their barbecues."

"They're, like, twenty-five," Marty reasons. "This is probably their first house. They're just excited."

"They're inconsiderate," I counter.

I slide open the door and step out onto the deck, anger fuming from my ears. Marty comes out behind me, curious as I take matters into my own hands. The group continues their business, not caring that it's way too early in the year to be having a barbecue. They're are wearing tank tops and shorts in 30 degree weather.

"Hey!" I shout above the music, but the boys and girls just keep laughing together and grilling their steaks. "Hey!"

That time, one of them turns down the dial on the music to respond.

"Yo!" he yells.

"Aren't you cold?" Marty calls out before I can ask my request.

"We're from the Yukon, bro!" the guy at the grill replies. "This is summer!"

"Can you turn down your music, and stop screaming?" I yell. "We can hear you from inside my house!"

"Oh, sorry!"

The boy snickers and blasts the volume dial up again, going way louder than it was before.

"Those little shits," I growl.

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

Oceana sits across from me in a booth at The Spoon. We always get baby taters to share, which we did today too, but I'm noticing that she hasn't really eaten many. Instead, she nibbles on one every few minutes then brings her arms back around her stomach, leaning forward toward the table.

"You feeling okay?" I wonder.

"Yeah," she responds, although her voice is breathy. "Just not very hungry."

I'm not an idiot. I know things with Oceana have been weird lately. I've been weird. I think I have a problem, because whenever I look at her, it doesn't feel right. It's like I'm looking at a forged photo, something that I'm told is correct, but it isn't. She's gorgeous and really nice, but it's been a really long time of us just being together, and nothing's really moved, but I think I'm moving...backward. I don't know what I want instead. No, I do know. I just don't think I want to admit it. Because that's insane, right? Here's this incredible girl in front of me, and all I can think about is—"

"So how about that weather?" Oceana asks, blocking my train of thought. "Pretty crazy, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Only partly cloudy. Maybe tomorrow we'll get fully cloudy."

She laughs uncomfortably. "Yeah..."

Why is it that when people are awkward, the first topic is always the weather? The weather's not even interesting today. It's not interesting any day. It's literally just clouds that vary their shape depending on the day. The direction of the toilet paper in public washrooms is more interesting than that.

"Hey, um, Andreas," Oceana speaks up after a moment. Her voice sounds frail like a fall leaf breaking off a branch. "I, um... I think we should break up."

Okay, here's the thing. I'm upset, yes. But I'm probably not as upset as I should be. Because it feels kind of like a weight off my chest, like I can now think about things other than her, look at girls other than her. I've never been cuffed this long before. Finally, I'm not. But now my ego feels under attack. Girls don't break up with me. Sure, they turn me down, but if one of them agrees to go out with me, I'm usually the one to end it.

"Why?" I question.

"I'm not..." She clearly hasn't prepared this part of her speech. "I—I—uh... It's nothing wrong with you. There's just... I kind of got feelings for someone else."

Okay, now I feel really conflicted, because I'm kind of mad, but I don't think I really have the right to be mad...

When I don't respond, she shakes her head and stands up, saying, "I'm sorry. I should go. I'll pay."

She turns around and walks away toward the front counter to get the bill, and I just stay sitting, trying to unwrap all the emotions going through me right now.

"Hey, dude," comes the voice of a teenager at the table beside mine, "if you're not gonna eat those baby taters, I'll take 'em."

"Not a chance," I huff and shove a baby tater in my mouth.


	65. S2 E9.2: Andreas's Girl

**Amber's POV**

Walking through the doors of the office building is a surreal experience, because there's no change in lighting, due to the glass walls. White sofas hold people drinking coffee and working on tablets. At the end of a straw rug is the desk where I step up to, and there the man looks up at me with a smile.

"Greetings," he says in an enthusiastic voice. "How may I help you on this sunny day?"

"Um, I'm here for an interview for the writer job."

"Name?"

"Amber Kippen."

He searches his computer, finding it in a second.

"Yes, you can just follow me, and I'll take you to Claire's office."

I follow the man into an elevator, and he nods toward the buttons.

"Floor three please," he says.

Okay, I guess I'm getting that. I press the button, but it doesn't light up, and the doors don't close, so I try again. After fifteen pushes, the elevator finally moves. It could just be my nerves, but I swear the instrumental song in the elevator is "Hollaback Girl." Eventually, we get to the third floor, and the man leads me down to an open office door where I step in, seeing a woman in a long, black trench coat, looking out her glass walls at the sunshine.

"Ah, yes, my four o'clock. Welcome," the woman says. "I'm Claire."

"I'm Amber," I respond.

She comes over to shake my hand, and her grip is firm, automatically creating a power dynamic between the two of us.

"Come take a seat."

I do as told, sitting down on the chair across from hers at her desk.

"So," she says, "do you know what this building is powered by?"

"Yes, solar panels on the roof," I answer confidently.

"Yes, but not the answer I was looking for," she responds. "It's powered by teamwork."

"Of course."

"What about Green Tea Magazine makes you want to write for us?"

"Uh, well, I've always loved the magazine," I explain. "I'm a strong advocate for environmental conservation, and I would love to be a part of that."

"Good answer," she says with a smile. "I'm glad you didn't mention tea. When I see that in a resume, I automatically throw it out. Now, tell me, do you know what makes Green Tea Magazine thrive?"

"Uh, hard work?"

"Renewable energy."

"Right, that's what I meant."

She gives me a pity smile and keeps going. "You know—"

A blaring fire alarm suddenly sounds, and the sprinklers above start showering us with water. My body reacts before my mind, springing up from my chair in panic.

"Not a fire," Claire huffs. "It's such a waste of water."

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

Everyone from the building stares up at the structure from the parking lot around it. The fire department managed to get the fire out, one of them being my brother, who comes over to me after it's safe.

"What were you doing here?" TJ asks.

"I had a job interview," I reply. "Do you know what started the fire?"

"Yeah, uh, looks like someone broke the level 3 button in the elevator, and some wires sparked and well, you know."

The level three button. Oh my God.

"I think I started the fire," I mutter in shock.

"Damn. Well, hope that job wasn't anything great," TJ says, giving my shoulder a pat.

Then I notice Claire coming over through the crowd, and I try to not look guilty.

"Crazy event during your interview, huh?" she says.

"Yeah, totally." I do my best to keep my smile looking normal.

"Some people don't know how to be patient and let the elevator take it's time."

"Yeah. Some people." I laugh awkwardly.

"So you ready to continue that interview?"

Is it moral for me to continue trying to get a job at a place I just accidentally set on fire? Would that be way overconfident? One hundred percent. But what am I going to answer? TJ eyes me from the side, but I just nod at Claire.

"Yup. Let's go."

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

Although the engine shuts off when I turn the key, the noise is still loud due to the music blaring next door. Buffy's done with it before we can even step out of the car, for she hops out and slams the door shut, beginning to walk toward the neighbours' house.

"They're still doing this?" she growls.

"It's really not a big deal," I tell her.

"Oh, so this isn't a big deal, but that time the other neighbours said you were slow, you had to train for a week to race them?"

"Okay, but I cared about that. I don't care about this."

My bluntness only fuels her more, and she shakes her head, walking on toward the gate to the neighbours backyard.

"You can't go through the gate," I say.

She goes through the gate.

"This is trespassing," I tell her as we enter the yard.

"They trespassed on my anger," she retorts.

"I don't think the law covers that."

As soon as we get in view of the young adults, all in their early twenties, a group of girls in tube tops and flip flops turn their eyes to me and my wife.

"Who invited their parents?" one of them asks.

"We're your neighbours!" Buffy shouts. "Turn down the music!"

"Sorry, I can't hear you over the music!" I boy on the deck shouts with a laugh.

All of a sudden, a group of people start cheering, and Buffy and I look over to see a girl shotgunning a can. Among the circle of observers is Cara. Buffy starts marching in her direction, and I hurry to follow.

"Cara!" Buffy snaps.

"They had cake," Cara defends.

Buffy grabs the girl's hand and pulls her away toward the gate again.

"You're lame," Cara grumbles.

"You're seven," Buffy replies.

"How come Andreas can stay, but I can't?"

At that, I look back to see Andreas on the deck by the boys at the grill. Buffy's about to start walking, but I hold up a hand and go instead.

"I'll get him," I say.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

When I walk in the door to my home, Andi is sitting on the couch, glancing at the clock in puzzlement.

"That took long," she says. "How'd it go?"

"Uh, you could say it was fire," I respond, going over to plop down next to her.

"Good fire?" she hopes.

"Literal fire. I may or may not have almost burnt down the building."

Andi gasps. "Amber!"

"We finished the interview afterward, but they still found out it was me who pressed the elevator button way too aggressively."

"What's with you and doing normal things in an exceedingly aggressive manner?" she questions.

"Hey, without me, our bedroom window would never open," I remind her.

"I mean, we could just get some grease or—"

"You really want to render my only power useless, huh?"

She chuckles and shakes her head.

"So I'm guessing you didn't get the job," Andi concludes.

"Hah, but I did," I correct with a grin. "My boss liked my enthusiasm toward getting to the interview."

"Wow, that seems like an awful business decision, but I support you!"

I giggle at that, and she comes in to hug me.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

"Marty, start the grill."

He nods, and I continue glaring from the patio at the source of the racket through the fence. They holler and shout above the pumping rap music, not caring who they're bothering. While Marty is on the deck at the barbecue, Jonah and Walker show up through the gate, Jonah carrying his electric guitar and amp.

"So why did you need us here, and why did I have to bring these?" Jonah asks.

"Because the neighbours are being obnoxious," I explain.

"And you want to prove you can be more obnoxious," Jonah pieces together.

"You get me," I respond with a smile.

Jonah begins plugging in and setting up his amp at the same time as Cara walks out onto the deck.

"I can't believe I'm stuck at the lame party!" she complains.

"No, this isn't lame, because we're going to keep our music going longer than they do," I respond.

"Sounds petty," my daughter states. "I like it."

Jonah plucks a few notes on his guitar, and the sound rings out until he mutes it with his palm.

"Hey," comes Brayden's voice as he steps onto the deck beside Cara. "I'm trying to do homework in here."

"Well, I'm trying to win," I argue.

"Alright," he sighs. "I guess I'll have to drop eighth grade French."

Marty furrows his brows at that. "Aren't you in seventh grade?"

"Congratulations," Brayden says sarcastically. "You know your son's grade."

"Why are you in eighth grade French?" Marty questions.

"I wanted a challenge. It didn't work."

Jonah starts playing a few chords, and after a moment, the neighbours finally respond.

"You trying to annoy us?" one of the boys yells. "We don't get annoyed! We used to fall asleep in blizzards."

"Sounds yummy," Cara comments. 

"Not those blizzards," Brayden informs her.

The neighbours dial their music up even louder, and Jonah gets ready to compete.

"Okay, here we go," he says.

He starts strumming a some chords, repeating the pattern while Cara goes over to the chair across from his, mesmerized. But then she says something that makes me stop.

"That's a pretty song. Are you gonna teach your baby it?"

Jonah's guitar falls flat, and we all turn to look at him and Walker. Cara suddenly has a guilty look on her face, like she knew she wasn't supposed to say that.

"Chickening out?" shouts the neighbour.

"We're in the middle of a family moment here!" I yell back. "Shut up!" Then I walk over to Jonah and Walker. "Jonah, Walker, what's she talking about?"

The two of them look at each other, like they never prepared for this moment. How come Cara knows? How come I didn't know?

"We're in the process of adopting a baby," Jonah finally explains.

"What?" I react, a huge smile growing on me.

"Guys!" Marty says from the deck. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"We didn't want to get anyone's hopes up before it happened," Walker answers.

"I'm so happy for you!" I cheer.

"Thanks," Jonah says. "But don't tell the others. We just don't want to jinx anything."

"My lips are sealed," I promise. "You're lucky Andi wasn't the one who found out."

"Or Cyrus's mom," Jonah jokes. "Okay, well—" he gets his guitar back in position "—back to annoying your neighbours."


	66. S2 E9.3: Andreas's Girl

**Jayda's POV**

Hazel's in AP grade nine math, which is why she tutors me with my grade ten math, because she's just that smart. Just by our set-ups at the dining room table in my house, you can see who the genius is, because she has two calculators—one in case the other dies—a binder, a stack of papers, highlighters, pencils, and a whole-ass geometry kit. I just have a pencil too dull to write with and the back of a drama club flyer that I stole from the bulletin board at school when I needed paper.

"So," she says, still trying to explain a problem to me, "if all sides of a triangle equal one hundred and eighty degrees, then the answer to the third side in this problem must be..."

She looks at me, awaiting my response, but I didn't even realize she was finished speaking.

"Uh, x squared?"

"No. Jayda—"

She stops when my phone buzzes, and I pick it up to check who it is, but as soon as I see the name, I flip it over face down on the table. Oceana. I can't talk to her. I can't even see her name. I just need to get her out of my head. But damn, she's really good at being in there.

"You're distracted," Hazel states then sighs. "Answer your phone. I'll wait."

"No, I'm fine. Let's keep going."

I pick up my pencil, actually ready to write, but then my phone buzzes again.

"Who is that?" Hazel wonders.

"Nobody," I respond.

She grins. "Oooh, I sense drama. What's going on?"

"Nothing," I insist. "It's—it's nothing."

"But it's not."

"Someone is just trying to talk to me, but I don't want to," I explain. "Or I can't."

"Why couldn't you?"

I can't tell her this. She's close with Andreas too, and if he ever found out about me and Oceana, he'd hate me. He's honestly one of my best friends at this point. I don't think I'd be able to handle if he stopped talking to me. Plus, family gatherings would be hella awkward.

"It's complicated," I say.

"Oh my gosh, Jayda," Hazel groans. "You're going to tell me eventually!"

"I have a crush on a girl!" I scream before I can think twice. I did it to get her to shut up, but now I don't know where to go from here.

"Wait, a girl?" she says in surprise.

"Yeah."

"That's so cute. Who is she? Do I know her?"

"I can't tell you," I say, "and it doesn't even matter, because nothing can happen"

"Is this a forbidden romance trope?" she asks with a grin. "I've always been more fond of the girl next goor cliche instead."

"It's not a romance," I state. "We just...can't be together."

"But it's a girl," she clarifies.

"Yes. Why?"

She shrugs. "No reason. I just...pictured you with someone else."

"Who?"

Before she can answer, there comes a ring of the doorbell, and I get up, leaving Hazel in the dining room. When I open the door, I feel a rush of fear strike me. It was bad enough trying to face him after New Year's, but now that his girlfriend is actually trying to push things further, it's soul-crushing. Seeing Andreas's brown eyes makes me want to melt into a puddle right here from guilt.

"Andreas," I say. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh, I don't really know," he breathes. "I guess I just wanted to see you."

He wants to see me. He wants to see the girl his girlfriend is hung up on. How did I end up in this situation? Andreas is...amazing. He doesn't deserve this.

"Can I come in?" he asks.

"Oh, yeah, right."

I step back to make space for him to enter, and he goes over to the couch. After closing the door and taking a breath to try to settle my nerves, I join him there.

"So..." I breathe, "what's up?"

"Uh, Oceana broke up with me," he utters.

Oh my God. That must be why she was texting me. I never bothered to read them. She broke up with Andreas for me. What the hell! I can't do this! I can't do this to him! No matter how much I like her.

"I'm sorry," I respond. "Did she say why?"

_Please let there be another reason._

"Apparently, there's someone else. She didn't really explain it."

I swallow hard. "That's awful. You must be heartbroken."

Andreas's eyes fall down to his hands as he mutters, "Uh, yeah. Sort of."

Another knock on the door turns both our heads.

"Sorry, it's probably a delivery or something," I say.

I get up and walk over to answer the door, but the person I see is a surprise again—and not a good time for it. I glance back at Andreas before stepping out onto the porch, shutting the door tight to make sure no sound gets through. Then I face Oceana, noticing the way her dark hair gleams blue in the moonlight of the winter evening. There's a frost on the trees along the roadway, making them sparkle in the background, illuminating this girl's enchanting presence. God, she's so perfect. Since when do people come this perfect?

"Hi," Oceana says.

"You can't be here," I hiss, folding my arms over my chest.

"I broke up with Andreas."

"I know that. He's inside right now hurting because of you."

"Jayda, I want to fix this all, but I don't know how. I just—I need you to listen to me."

I shouldn't. But I do.

"I feel something for you," she says tears starting to glitter in her eyes, "and I'm terrified of it, but if I have any chance of holding on to this feeling, I want to take it. Jayda, you can't stand here and tell me you don't feel anything for me."

I shake my head, feeling my own eyes start to well. This girl is going to be the death of me.

"Oceana, I like you. I admit that. Everything about you just..." I pause to collect myself. "I don't want to be just your friend, but I don't think we can even be that."

Our eyes are locked like chains interlinked. There's no breaking this. But I can't let myself go any deeper.

"My friend still has feelings for you," I state, "and what kind of a person would be if I put my own feelings above his?"

It takes her moment, but she eventually nods. "I understand. You really are a good friend."

There's a long pause where the only sound audible is that of the ropes between us snapping. They're no good anymore.

She releases a deep breath. "I guess I'll...leave you alone. Bye, Jayda."

She takes a step back, starting slowly down the pathway, and I turn around toward the door, using all my strength not to cry. I wipe my eyes and return back inside my home, but regardless of my effort to stay in tact, Andreas and Hazel are both staring at me from the living room.

"Hazel," Andreas says, "can you give us a minute?"

"Uh, sure," the girl replies then steps back around to the dining room.

Andreas stands up and comes toward me with a gentle smile.

"The window is open, by the way," he suddenly says, and everything inside of me plummets.

"Shit," I mutter. "Andreas, I'm so sorry."

He raises his hands up and places them on my shoulders, instantly comforting me with his touch. But I don't understand. How is he not mad?

"No, it's okay," he says. "I think you should be with her."

I shake my head. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not." He drops his arms again, opening his mouth like he's going to add something else, but then he just nods.

I'm stunned. He's so selfless. He's putting me ahead of him. I seriously don't deserve this kind of forgiveness, but he's giving it to me. All I know is...whoever ends up with him will be really damn lucky.

"Go stop her before she leaves," Andreas says.

I smile, then reach for the doorknob behind me. In the flash of a moment, I whip the door open and sprint down the walkway. Oceana's almost at her car.

"Oceana!" I shout.

She spins around and looks at me in bafflement, but I don't waste a second. The instant I get close enough, I take her face in my hands and kiss her. She leans into me like two waves of the sea crashing together, pulling each other as close as the laws of psychics will allow. Her arms hold my waist, raining butterflies over my entire body. She is the tide, and I've been pulled under. Deep under.

**Andreas's POV**

They look happy. Jayda and Oceana are happy together. I lean against the doorframe, feeling like I'm probably invading their personal moment, but as much as I wish I could look away, I can't.

"You look despondent," Hazel says as she steps up beside me.

"I don't know what that means," I reply.

"Sad," she explains.

I shake my head. "I'm just watching Oceana and Jayda. They're a thing now, I guess."

"Hmm." She nods slowly. "And which one of them is the reason you're sad? I bet I can guess."

That annoys me, and I shoot Hazel a glare, grumbling, "Go be someone else's therapist."

I stomp away toward the kitchen. It's a stupid question, what she asked. Stupid, because she's implying that I don't like Oceana most, that my girlfriend isn't the one I care about. Stupid, because how in denial would I have to be to stay with someone I didn't like for as long as I stayed with Oceana. Stupid.

It's a stupid question, because the answer is plain as day. It's Jayda. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me your theories and hopes! I would love to read them. The next episode will come out on Wednesday July 15th. I'm hyped for the rest of this season, and I am even more excited for season 3. Thank you guys so much for reading, and I'll see you soon!


	67. S2 E10.1: Roller Coaster

**Buffy's POV**

The paths of Adrenaline City are crowded with families and friends all enjoying the amusement park in the spring weather. Because of Marty's job as a manager here, he gets lots of free passes that today he's using to get all of the Good Hair Family into the park. Jonah and Walker talk to Amber and Andi while they walk. TJ and Cyrus keep an eye on Wyatt, making sure he doesn't get distracted and wander off. Jayda, having been with Oceana for over a month now, has brought her with us. Andreas has chosen not to open up about his feelings on that whole situation to me nor Marty. Rather, he just talks with Hazel, keeping his distance from the girls ahead. It seems like he got over Oceana really fast, which I guess I have to attribute to his incredible ability to bounce back.

The one creating the most chaos is Cara, who leaps from brick to brick on the pathway, avoiding all the cracked ones. She doesn't look up at all, causing her to get in the way of many strangers just trying to walk. They all dodge around her as she wedges between strolling families.

"Aren't you worried she might hit someone?" Cyrus wonders.

"She does this everywhere we go," I explain. "We've just accepted it at this point."

Right at that, Cara knocks into a man walking by her, and she nearly stumbles backward, but the man remains calm.

"Be careful, little girl," he tells her.

That simple request is enough to make Cara explode, shouting, "You be careful!"

"Cara!" I call. "Come here."

My daughter whips around angrily and stomps back to me.

"He called me a little girl!" she huffs.

"You are a little girl," I respond. "It's not an insult. And you bumped into him, so walk normally."

Although begrudgingly, Cara stops her jumping around and instead takes long strides to keep up with the rest of our group as we walk. But now with her eyes up, she sees the cotton candy stand to our left and begins tugging on my arm.

"Cotton Candy! Mom!"

"No," I reply. "You've had enough sugar today already."

She frowns and switches over to Marty's hand, yanking as she says, "Dad! Cotton Candy!"

"Sorry, baby. I'm with your mom," Marty says.

"Who do you always listen to her?" Cara pouts.

"Why do you listen to her?" Marty reflects.

"Because I have to."

"Exactly."

Marty glances up at me with a grin, and I shake my head at him, but I'm still smiling.

**Jayda's POV**

Oceana's hand is smaller than mine, so whenever we hold hands, hers fits snuggly in place. She walks alongside me, her long French braid swinging behind her. At first, she was opposed to holding hands in public, afraid of what others would say, but now she's become comfortable with it. I never had that problem. To be honest, though, sometimes I forget that some people still don't like same-sex couples. I've been raised around so many that it just feels normal.

"I love Adrenaline City," I say. "I come here all the time because of Marty's job."

"I came here on a physics field trip in October," Oceana responds. "We learned about how the rides demonstrate concepts like centripetal force, kinetic energy, friction, and things like that."

I don't know what any of those things are, except friction, because that's what wears down my shoe soles, but I smile and nod anyway, because I don't like having to ask her for explanations.

"Oh, yeah, totally," I agree.

Oceana hears the uncertainty in my voice and says, "Centripetal force is the force that keeps things spinning."

Yeah, that doesn't really connect in my head, but I pretend it does, laughing while saying, "Obviously."

"You don't understand," Oceana concludes. "That's okay. Well, the simple translation is I like rides."

I give her a smile, because I at least get that part, but I still feel kinda dumb.

"I also really like churros," Oceana adds with a giggle.

That, I can get behind.

"Yes, of course," I say, laughing along. "Anyone human likes churros."

"Well, my parents don't like them, because gluten—"

"Yeah, I know, uh... It was a joke."

"Oh, yeah, of course."

She smiles gently, but it feels more like pity. I try to ignore it, looking around instead at the rides running, attempting to settle back into the comfort of our hands interlocked.

**Andreas's POV**

I never really got the whole having an image stuck in your mind thing until recently, until February specifically, when Jayda and Oceana kissed outside her house. I kinda can't forget that as much as I try. I tried binging horror films to give me a more troubling memory to take it over, but all it did was add demons to the background of the scene. Although I do my best to focus on anything else, it's only natural now that I look over at Jayda with Oceana as they spot a ride and split off together, leaving the rest of the group.

"I see you're keeping your mind busy," Hazel sarcastically comments.

"Shut up," I mumble, feeling mad at myself for being so obvious.

"Cool," she responds in a breath.

I shake my head. "Sorry. I'm just..."

"It's okay," Hazel says. "I don't take it personally. I have not been in your situation, but I can imagine it's not easy."

I narrow my eyes, feeling ready to defend my emotionless self-image.

"My situation?"

"You know," she responds. "The one you're repressing."

"You really love to get into other people's business," I state. "You're becoming a lot like Andi."

Hazel's eyes go wide. "You take that back."

"Stop being nosy."

"You stop denying your feelings."

I give her a smirk, saying, "I guess we both won't be changing."

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

At some point, Andreas and Hazel left their own way once Oceana and Jayda already had, and Amber, Andi, Jonah, and Walker broke off to get snow cones, so now it's just Buffy, Marty, Cyrus and I with Brayden, Wyatt, and Cara when Cara sees the sign for a roller coaster and starts screaming.

"I wanna go on that!"

"Are you tall enough now?" I ask her.

Cara runs away from our group to go check her height against the height board, and I guess she must be tall enough, because she shouts again, this time making everyone around pause to look at her.

"Yes!"

"I think she's tall enough," Cyrus says.

Cara dashes back to our group, saying, "Let's go!"

"Yes!" Wyatt joins in.

Both kids start to go, but then they turn back around to look at Brayden. Brayden's been reading a book of poetry this whole time, eyes focused down on it while we walked, yet he somehow didn't trip at any point. I get the feeling he reads a lot at events where he's supposed to be social.

"Are you gonna come?" Wyatt asks Brayden.

"I didn't think it needed explaining that I will not be going on that." Brayden responds, not bothering to look up from his pages.

"Lame," Cara says.

"At least I won't need anyone to bail me out of jail when I'm older," Brayden justifies.

"I'm not going to jail," Cara denies. Then she looks at Marty. "Dad, tell him!"

Marty freezes. "Um... Go on the roller coaster."

"Brayden," Wyatt says, "when the world ends, just remember that you chickened out of riding this really awesome roller coaster, and because of that, you lost my respect."

"Wyatt," Cyrus starts, but Brayden interrupts before Cyrus can lecture our son about kindness.

"I'm completely fine with that," Brayden states with a smile.

"Forget him," Cara says, grabbing Wyatt's arm.

The two kids head toward the roller coaster lineup, and Buffy and Marty turn to Cyrus and I.

"I'll stay with Brayden," Cyrus says, and they nod.

"Cool, then we'll meet you after the ride," Marty says before he and Buffy go after Cara and Wyatt.

"Mind if I go too?" I ask Cyrus.

"No. Go ahead."


	68. S2 E10.2: Roller Coaster

**Amber's POV**

After buying snow cones, Andi and I walk down a street of carnival games with Jonah and Walker. None of us are interested in the games, though. Rather, we stop to join a circle of people all watching a dancer in a red and white pinstriped dress and hair bow. She's part of the park's entertainment, doing tricks to a song while those around take photos and videos. When she does a kick, bringing her leg straight up by her face, the crowd ooohs and aahhs.

"She's really good," Jonah says between crunches of coloured ice

"Amber, can you do that?" Andi asks me.

"Yeah, you dance, right?" Walker recalls.

"Uh, yeah, but I don't dance much anymore, so I doubt I'd be as good still."

"Try," Andi says. "I'll hold your snow cone."

She takes my cone from me, and I sigh.

"Alright," I say.

I take a step back and try to move, bringing my leg up next to my head. Somehow, my jeans are stretchy enough to handle it, and I remain balanced there in a vertical split.

"That's amazing!" Jonah cheers.

"Wait," I say.

I lower my leg and try another trick I used to do. I bend over into a back bridge, then try walking forward like a spider. When I stand back up, I realize most of the crowd has changed gears, turning to watch me instead of the professional.

"Dance!" one person says.

I shake my head. "No, I'm..."

Then the chanting starts, spawning from a child and spreading through everyone until I can't ignore it. Giving them what they want, I begin free-styling my contemporary dance to the rest of the music playing, becoming energized by the clapping. I finish when the song ends, and there's a burst of applause before everyone moves on. But when I'm about to find my wife and friends again, I'm stopped by the approach of the professional dancer who looks upset.

"You trying to put me out of a job?" she interrogates. "I'm just trying to pay my mortgage, but of course some pretty, blonde woman has to come over here and do what I do but better."

I'm completely taken aback, responding, "I wasn't try to show you up."

Then a guest in the park passes by, really not helping my arguement by saying, "Adrenaline City should hire that dancer instead."

The professional grinds her teeth and looks at me again, growling, "You want this job?" She pulls out her hair bow and slaps it down in my hand. "It's yours. You have a show at Sunshine Stage at 4:00."

She marches away, and I'm left confused as to what I've just gotten into.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

Marty, Buffy, TJ, Cara, and Wyatt find Brayden and me at a picnic table together after they get off the ride. Cara and Wyatt are both shaking from the experience still, smiling wider than I've seen them before.

"That was exhilarating!" Cara screams.

"That means fun," Wyatt explains proudly.

"Yes, I know what exhilarating means," Brayden replies, closing his book to stand up.

"Let me feel proud for a moment," Wyatt says.

"You should go on the roller coaster," Cara tells Brayden.

"I'm good."

"Maybe it would be fun for you," I join in. "Have you ever been on a roller coaster?"

Usually, I wouldn't get involved in the kids' arguement, but Brayden has the tendency to rule things out before giving them a chance, and I don't want him to become so stuck in his ways that he never tries anything new.

"I've made the sensible decision to pass on that," Brayden replies.

"You might like it," I say.

Then he smiles in a condescending way. "You are right. I'll go on it if you do."

All the attention shifts to me, and I regret ever encouraging Brayden. I should've just let him sit out.

"Well, roller coasters are boring anyway," I say.

"Cyrus," TJ says, his eyes pushing into me.

My husband comes over to sit down beside me, and I watch him nervously.

"You have your nausea patches, right?" he checks.

"You must have far more faith in the brand than I do."

"You'll be fine."

"TJ, if humans were meant to go on rides, trees would be shaped like them."

Buffy steps forward to chime in, saying, "You've been on worse."

"When I was thirteen," I remind her, "and even then I could barely handle it. Do you really want me to spray my lunch on some unsuspecting bystanders?"

"No, we don't," Brayden states happily. "Now let's go find a garden for me to view instead."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

The roller coaster is long behind us as Cyrus's and my family, minus Andreas and Jayda who are still off doing other things separately, walk down the path by the log ride. Of course as soon as I notice the ice cream stand to our right, I try to step forward to block Cara's view of it, but she's too observant.

"Mom, Dad," she says, "I hate to be predictable, but...ice cream! Can I please get it!"

"Cara, we have ice cream at home," I remind her.

"But that ice cream isn't this ice cream," she argues.

"Cara," Marty says, "when you get a job, you can buy yourself some ice cream."

Cara lets out a groan, at the end of which Amber, Andi, Jonah, and Walker come into sight. It's been a while since they got snow cones, and I just assumed they went on some rides without us. But apparently Amber got a costume change in that time instead. She's wearing a neon pink dress with rhinestones on it, looking like a pageant Barbie doll.

"What's going on with you guys?" I question.

"And why is Amber dressed as a highlighter?" Marty adds.

"It's a long story," Andi replies, "and unfortunately we don't have time to explain. She's expected backstage soon."

"Backstage?" TJ echoes in confusion.

Andi and Amber head off in the opposite direction of us, but Jonah and Walker stay to say more.

"Come to Sunshine Stage at 4:00," Jonah says.

"Why?" Cyrus asks. "What's going on?"

"Just do it," Jonah insists.

He and Walker take off to catch up with Amber and Andi, and I look around at the others, seeing that nobody is understanding this any more than me. With my attention on my group again, I suddenly realize that one of the three kids is missing. She's not standing between Marty and me like she was a minute ago.

"Wait, where's Cara?" I ask.

Marty's eyes go wide in worry as he starts looking around. "Uh..."

We pause to scan the whole area, but she's nowhere in sight.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

"Wanna go on the ferris wheel?" I ask.

Oceana looks up at the tall structure that sits in the middle of a large pond. Ferris wheels are hella romantic, and I think we could use something calmer after all the fast rides we've been on. I begin leading Oceana by her hand down the flower-lined pathway toward my suggestion, but she slows down the closer we get, eventually stopping as her eyes catch something else, and she lets go of my hand.

"We should go on that," she says.

I trace her eyes back to the round up ride, the type where you stand up, and it spins you. Just the sight of it makes my stomach flip, and I let out a nerve-filled laugh.

"I can do a lot of things, but spinny rides are not part of those," I tell her.

"You're afraid of spinning?" Oceana says.

"Not afraid. I just don't like throwing up."

"Relax, Jayda," Oceana says gently. "Take a deep breath."

I close my eyes and take in the air, during which I feel Oceana's hands touch mine again, automatically settling my fears a bit. When I exhale, I'm back to normal. There's no need to be worked up, because we're not going on that anyway. I open my eyes again, feeling better.

"Okay," Oceana says. "Ready?"

She starts pulling me toward the ride, but I let go of my grip, shaking my head.

"Oceana, no. I can't."

She sighs. "That's okay. We can go on the ferris wheel."

"Thanks," I say.

She saunters alongside me, continuing toward the ferris wheel, but it's hard to not notice her looking back at the round up ride every few steps. Eventually, I get annoyed and stop to face her. 

"If you really want to go on that, you can," I say. "I'll just wait here."

"No, I shouldn't," she responds, but I can tell it's just to be polite. I kind of can't stand that, when people just do things to be polite, as though I can't handle reality.

"It's fine," I insist. "It's whatever."

She smiles at that. "You're the best."

She steps in to kiss me before going away to her ride, leaving my lips feeling a little colder than before. With her gone, I find a place to sit on a bench nearby, and I take out my phone out of my cross-body purse, curious about where everyone else is. I start a message to Andreas and hit send.

 **Me:** Hey. Where are you?

I wait a minute, but there's no reply. He's probably on a ride or doing something fun. I shouldn't expect a response. I put my phone back in my purse and lift my eyes to gaze at everyone who passes by. They look like blurs to me.


	69. S2 E10.3: Roller Coaster

**Marty's POV**

After looking at every stand that sells sugary food, we eventually made our way to the last resort: Guest Services. The building is painted purple with a tall door and an asymmetrical-shaped window. Since I know this park like my own home, I know that here we'll be able to get security to help search for our daughter. Buffy's worried enough for the both of us, so I do my best to remain composed as we enter in. Turns out we don't even need to talk to the employees at the desk, for we spot Cara sitting on one of the chairs, writing on a piece of paper.

"Cara!" Buffy says." What are you doing? You can't run off!"

Both of us hurry up to the girl who remains unfazed even as her mom lassos her in a hug.

"I'm getting a job," Cara replies.

Buffy lets her go, and we both look down at the paper she has in her lap.

"You're filling out a job application?" I say. "What position?"

"Head chef at one of the park's restaurants," Cara answers.

"You can't do that," Buffy states.

"Yeah," I agree. "You need one to two years experience."

"Cara," Buffy cuts back in, "we admire your initiative, but you scared us."

"Look," she says with an exhausted breath, "all I want is ice cream. What do I have to do to get that?"

I look over at Buffy who meets my eyes. It takes a moment, but eventually, I can tell that she knows that I'm not going to do what she wants, and she accepts that. What's the harm in a little more sugar anyway? I ate way too much sugar as a kid, and I'm fine.

"Okay, you can have ice cream," I say.

Cara leaps out of her chair, cheering, "Thank you!"

She does a twirl before running toward the door to leave Guest Services, and I look over at my wife who has her arms crossed.

"You mad at me?" I ask.

"No," she responds then takes a step ahead, leaning in once more to say, "because you'll be cooking dinner tonight."

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

"This isn't how I thought we'd spend today," Walker says, "but I have to say I am thoroughly entertained."

He stands with Jonah and me backstage of Sunshine Stage where all the dancers are rehearsing in a huge, mirrored room. Among them is Amber who is trying to learn the moves at the last minute. She's not even getting paid for this, but she's putting all her effort into it. There also happens to be a kitchen attached to this building, so people keep coming by with food and treats that we're allowed to take for reasons I don't know, but I'm not dumb enough to question it.

"Yeah, I thought there'd be a few more rides," Jonah says, "but the free food is nice."

At that thought, someone comes by pushing a cart of candy apples, and all three of us reach out to take one each. I take a bite through the sweet, red candy, into the sourness of the juicy apple.

"Too bad Amber just got a new job," I comment. "I wouldn't mind her working here."

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

So Andi, Amber, Jonah, and Walker are still off doing something I'm eager to learn what at 4:00. Andreas and Hazel are still on their own, and Jayda and Oceana are somewhere, but they've all been informed of the 4:00 plans. While the rest of us walk to the next ride, Brayden begins talking to me, and I listen happily, since he doesn't talk to people much, and this is kind of a rare moment.

"Uncle Cyrus, I'm really glad you're scared of big rides too, because it makes me feel less bad."

I don't know how much of a compliment that is, but I take it as one.

"No problem," I say.

"Yeah," TJ says leaning closer to tease me. "Good job on being a wimp and not facing your fears."

"I am perfectly comfortable with my wimpiness," I counter.

"Facing your fears is overrated," Brayden goes on. "I plan on living in a bubble my whole life. Who needs discomfort?"

Suddenly, I realize how bad of an influence I'm being. I'm promoting not trying new things. I'm encouraging this boy to stay inside his shell. There's only one solution to this, and my stomach spins as soon as I say it.

"Brayden, we're going on a roller coaster."

"What?" he reacts.

TJ smiles, and I let out a sigh, telling him, "I'm fine with _my_ wimpiness, not his."

"I'm still proud of you," TJ responds.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

The roller coaster restraint presses down on my shoulders. TJ sits next to me in the car, with Brayden and Buffy ahead of us, Cara and Wyatt ahead of them, and Marty behind us. I can hear the chains of the track clicking away as we prepare to launch, but my rapid-fire pulse really tries to outshine it.

"Uncle Cyrus," Brayden calls out, "if I throw up, I hope it lands on you!"

I look over at TJ, and he gives me a soft smile, squeezing my hand.

"You nervous?" he asks.

"Well, this isn't how I am when I'm calm," I reply.

"It will be fine," he promises.

"As long as you keep my hand the whole time."

"Oh, there's actually a no hand-holding policy. For safety."

My face goes white in fear, but then he cracks into a grin.

"I'm kidding," he says.

"You're horrible."

He laughs and adjusts his grip on my hand right as the car starts rolling, and I get ready to scream in terror.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

Cara chomps on chocolate covered popcorn while she sits on the bench with her parents and Brayden to the left of Wyatt, Cyrus and me. It's nearly 4:00, so we're all gathered with the rest of the crowd at the outdoor Sunshine Stage, waiting for whatever is supposed to happen.

"I'm proud of you, Dad," Wyatt tells Cyrus.

"Me too," I say, looking at my husband. "You didn't puke once."

"Almost did," he says, "but I was so terrified that I think my body went into paralysis for a minute and forgot how to throw up."

I laugh. "Those nausea patches really are magic, huh?"

**Andreas's POV**

Today was mostly Hazel attempting to keep my mind off of what she calls my "situation" by forcing me on all the giant rides. I guess she's, like, a robot or something, because she could handle everything from fast to flipping to swinging. I'm pretty sure she purposefully avoided the spinning rides, because she knew that Jayda doesn't like spinny rides, and going on one would remind me of her. It worked pretty well. I didn't think about her much at all, until now with everyone in our group reconvening. 

When Hazel and I get to the seating area for Sunshine Stage, Andi is just finding her in front of Jonah and Walker and beside my parents. But from the opposite end of the walkway come Jayda and Oceana. They come up to me and Hazel, but it's only once they're right in front of us that I realize I've only been looking at Jayda, and I make a conscious effort to try to glance to Oceana once too.

"Hey," I say. "How was the day?"

"Uh, great," Jayda responds, her voice a bit drained, probably from screaming on rides.

"Super fun," Oceana agrees. "What did you guys do?"

"Uh, not much," I answer. "Went on rides. Hazel saw a pretty girl and was so awkward that she made us let four people go ahead of us in line to avoid having to talk to her."

Jayda looks to her cousin with a sad smile. "Aww, Hazel."

"I'm not good at talking to pretty girls," Hazel argues, crossing her arms. "It stresses me out."

"Some day you'll get better at it," Jayda assures her, but then Oceana gives Jayda's hand a little tug.

"Hey, the show is starting," she says. "We should sit."

"Oh, yeah," Jayda responds.

She turns to follow her girlfriend to an empty seat. Hazel has to give me a nudge to get me to stop watching Jayda and go join our families.

**Jonah's POV**

As soon as the music begins, and the dancers come out on stage, I notice my friends' mouths all drop at the sight of Amber. She kills it, hitting every beat like she's been doing this for months, not just a few hours. Walker sits beside me enjoying the show until about halfway through when his phone rings, and I look over curiously. I don't manage to see the number, but by the look on his face, it seems important.

"I've got to take this," he says.

He gets up and leaves the seating area to take the call, while I continue watching Amber swirl and bop with the others on stage, everyone looking like rainbow glitter confetti in their outfits. A couple minutes later, Walker returns with a smile that he's trying to keep contained, but he can't.

"Hey," he says, "so that was the adoption agency. I have good news."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I've finished writing season 2 and have written the first episode of season 3. I'm super hyped for it all. I think you guys are gonna have some emotional roller coasters. I hope, at least. Thank you guys for reading, and I love you all. Next episode will be on Friday, July 17.


	70. S2 E11.1: All Hail

**Andi's POV**

Hazel sits at the other end of the kitchen table from me, typing away on her laptop while I'm busy sketching a plan for my next sculpture. We rarely get this time together. Usually she's in her room, so I want to take advantage of it.

"What are you working on?" I ask, trying to strike up a conversation.

"Homework."

One word, and she's back to focusing.

"Is it interesting?" I try again.

"The day plant cells are interesting, I'll learn how to yodel the Bangladeshi national anthem."

"What are learning about plant cells?"

"Mom, I'm just here because I needed an outlet close to a table," she explains, gesturing to the charging cable plugged into her computer. "I'll talk after I'm done my homework."

My daughter is too focused on her schoolwork to talk to me. I bet Cyrus and TJ never have this problem.

All of a sudden, Amber enters the room with her phone in hand, saying, "You know what we should get?"

"A trampoline?" Hazel says without a second of thought.

"We don't have space for that," Amber shoots down.

"We could get a small one," Hazel argues.

"What should we get?" I ask Amber.

"This car."

She brings her phone over to me to see a photo of an aquamarine car with crisp corners and an overall old-fashioned look, but it's brand new.

"You'd rather have that than a trampoline?" Hazel says after viewing the image herself.

"Amber, haven't you already had a car, like, the exact same?" I ask her.

"No," she denies.

"You definitely have," I press. "Well, it wasn't the same, but it was really similar. Sea green and kinda boxy."

"I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

"I promise you had that. I remember riding in it when we were teenagers."

"Then how come I don't remember this at all?"

I can't tell whether she's just being difficult or genuinely doesn't remember, but I will bet my life on this fact. She had a car like this before.

"Oooh," Hazel chirps. "Which mom is crazy? Let's find out."

"It's not me," I insist.

"It's not me," Amber retorts. "I think I would remember if I owned that car. Show me a photo."

"I don't have a photo."

"How convenient," Hazel comments.

I shake my head and look to Amber again, saying, "Let's talk to someone who would remember."

I stand up, leaving my sketchbook on the table, and head for the front door to get my shoes on.

"Who is that?" Amber wonders.

"Your brother."

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

A knock on my window scares me, and I close my laptop and spin around on my bed to see Andreas sitting on the tree on the other side of the glass. I reach up and lift the window open then lean my elbows on the sill.

"You know the door isn't just for looks," I say.

"This is more fun," he replies.

"You like almost giving me heart attacks?"

He smiles. "You're fun to scare."

I back up to allow him to crawl through and kick off his runners onto the carpet. I close my window while he gets comfortable on the other end of my bed, sitting with his legs criss-cross. After, I open my laptop again, but he's giving me a curious look.

"What were you looking at on your laptop?" he wonders.

"The English assignment," I reply.

"I didn't realize English assignments had 'add to cart' buttons."

"Fine. I'm online shopping," I admit. "Are you done bugging me?"

"For now," he says with a grin that makes me want to roll my eyes because of the way it tries to get me to go soft. "So what's the assignment?"

"I have to interview someone on their life story and then write a paper about—I don't know—the connections and shit. Sorry, I don't English well."

"No kidding," he teases.

This time I do roll my eyes, probably as a way to try to counteract my own smile.

"Are you gonna be judging me this whole time?" I ask.

"I'm not judging."

"Right. You're just pointing out my flaws."

"Maybe I like your flaws."

I kinda both like it and hate it when he does this, when says uncomfortably sweet things like that. He gives me his wry smile and flower blossom eyes that would have me waiting the whole spring just to seem them bloom in the summer. He's like this with everyone, though, I'm pretty sure. He's charismatic. It's kind of his thing. He says and does things that just make everyone want to be around him. I'm honestly jealous of it sometimes.

"Then you're weird," I respond.

He just shrugs, and I move on, clicking open a new document to type on.

"Okay," I say, "so I was supposed to make questions, but, um—"

"You didn't do it?" he guesses before I can finish.

"I couldn't think of any," I defend.

That makes him laugh, which makes me smile, but I kind of have homework to do that might be due in, like, two days, so I get down to business.

"So, uh, just start talking," I tell him. "What's your life story?"

"Um, well, I was born on April third sixteen years ago," he starts, and I type while he talks. "Uh, my first words were 'It's Gucci'—"

"Stop telling people that!" I interrupt him. "They were not."

"They were," he insists.

"No. Not possible."

"My real first words weren't as cool," he confesses.

"You were one. They don't have to be cool."

It takes him a moment of pressure from my eyes before he sighs and says, "My first word was 'bubble.'"

"That's cute."

But even though I'm fawning over the idea of a baby Andreas loving bubbles so much that that was his first word, his face is turning red. Here's the thing: it's funny when he's embarrassed, but I also feel like I have a duty as his friend to protect his pride from my boring-as-hell English teacher who will be reading my paper. And maybe I like being the only one who knows the truth.

"What are you typing?" Andreas asks.

I click the period, finishing the sentence, and look up at him.

"Your first words," I say. "'It's Gucci.'"

He smiles, and I hit enter to get ready to ask him more.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

The basketball game plays on the living room television. Cyrus wanted to join me for a change, but I can tell he's starting to get bored, because while I'm still honed in on the baskets being made, Cyrus's head falls on my shoulder. I try to ignore it, but soon his chin raises, and I feel his breath on my neck as he stares at me.

"This is why I watch the game alone," I state.

He lifts his head up closer so that his nose is grazing my jaw, making my skin tingle.

"Why?" he asks gently. "What am I doing?"

"You know what you're doing."

He doesn't back away, but he does smile sweetly and reply, "Sorry."

I finally give up and turn to him, connecting my lips with his like a spring needing to be released. Unfortunately, right as we find our rhythm, the doorbell rings, and one of us has to be the mature one and break away to get the door. That happens to be me.

"We should've never fixed that doorbell," Cyrus mumbles.

I chuckle then pull the door open to find Buffy and Marty standing on the other side with Cara and Brayden.

"Hey," I greet. "What's up?"

"We're picking up that tupperware we lent you when we gave you all those muffins," Buffy explains.

"Right. Um..."

Now I remember the plan for her to come grab it, but I don't actually know where it is, so I look back at Cyrus who does the talking for me as he comes over from the couch.

"It's in the basement," he says.

Buffy nods and heads down the hall, followed by Marty. Cara and Brayden remove their shoes, looking bored already.

"They forced us to come on the way back from the mall," Brayden explains.

While the two of them disperse inside, the front door opens again, but this time it's my sister, her wife, and their daughter. Of course they didn't give us any notice that they were coming, but they have a key, so Amber seems to think that that means she doesn't need to give notice.

"TJ," Amber says, "we need you to settle an arguement for us."

"It's not an arguement," Andi retorts.

"It sounds like an arguement," Hazel comments. "I'm here 'cause I wanna see who wins."

Before any of them can explain the situation, a sudden crackle of thunder ripples the sky, and it begins pouring water and hail the size of golfballs outside. It beats the sidewalk like bullets, being lit up by every flash of lightening that follows.

"That came out of nowhere," Cyrus says, looking out the window with nervous eyes.

"Awesome," Hazel reacts. "I love hail."

"I hope my car doesn't get damaged," Amber says.

Thunder cracks again, and Cyrus jolts at the sound.

I place my hand on his shoulder, asking, "You good?"

"I'm not a big fan of lightening," Cyrus responds.

"It's just light," I reason.

"I cannot tell you how much of an understatement that is," he replies. "That's like calling the World War Two just a fight."

"Hey," comes Marty's voice as he returns from the basement, "where downstairs is the container— Woah."

He freezes to look outside at the massive downpour. After that, he realizes Amber and Andi are here and looks over at them.

"Oh, hey, everyone's here."

"Except Jonah and Walker," Andi notes. "But I haven't heard from them in a couple days, now that I think about it."

"Yeah, me neither," Marty responds.

More lightning, and Hazel's smile grows bigger with Cyrus's visible nerves.

"Well, looks like the hail's gonna keep us inside here for a while," Marty goes on.

I look to Cyrus, checking, "We have the windows closed, right?"

"I want to say yes, but now I'm unsure."

At the exact same time, we both spin around to go check.


	71. S2 E11.2: All Hail

**Wyatt's POV**

I push the lever on the remote control, making the helicopter rise up high, almost hitting the ceiling, but I'm good enough at this to keep it from actually touching. Cara's beside me, sitting on my bed, watching me fly the toy around my bedroom. She tried to touch the remote earlier, but there's no way I'm letting her fly this. It took me way too long to learn it myself. It probably would've taken less time if I had read the instructions, but instructions are annoying. I get enough people telling me what to do all day at school. I don't need a piece of paper to do that at home.

"Do your dads know you have this?" Cara wonders.

I shake my head. "I traded so many Snickers bars for this. I'm not telling them, 'cause they'll tell me not to fly it inside."

Okay, it's definitely not my fault, but somehow the helicopter hits the bookshelf and plummets to the ground like a fighter jet being shot out of the sky. It looks really cool, but I hope it's not broken, because I'm out of Halloween candy.

Cara gets up and runs over to the wall where the helicopter landed by an air vent. She lifts it up and looks it over.

"It's okay," she tells me with a smile. "Let's go again!"

She's about to run back over to me, but she pauses, listening to some murmuring coming out of the air vent. It's the one that's connected to the basement. If people scream loud enough down there, I can usually hear them. I guess Cara can hear someone too, and giving it a listen myself, I realize it's Auntie Buffy and Uncle Marty.

"It's not going to work," comes Auntie Buffy's voice.

"It can work," Uncle Marty fights.

"No. It's broken and can't be fixed. I need something new."

All of a sudden, the helicopter propellors start spinning in Cara's hands, and she screams dropping it as I notice my hand pressing on a button on the remote, and I let it go.

"Sorry," I say, but she doesn't care.

"What do you think they were talking about?" she questions.

I shrug and say the first thought in my head. "It sounded a lot like what my friend said his parents were saying before they got divorced."

"Divorced?" Cara responds in shock. "Like breaking up?"

"Yeah, but with more paperwork. My dads wouldn't do that, though. I said the word once, and they got all sad and were like that for hours."

Cara's scared look turns to determination as she says, "I have to stop this, and you're going to help me."

"Cool."

"Not cool," she states. "Serious."

"Seriously cool."

She glares at me, shaking her head, but I don't know what's even going on.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

"Okay," I breathe, "we've been on your pre-school years for forever, and I hate to tell you this, but I don't think my English teacher cares about your struggle catching slugs in your backyard."

"Epic struggle catching slugs," Andreas corrects me. "Make sure you say epic."

He grins, proud of his annoyingness, and I roll my eyes.

"I should've picked someone else," I say.

"Nobody else would be this interesting."

I laugh, replying, "That might be a good thing. My paper's gonna end up being, like, thirty pages."

There's a short pause while I save my document before he asks, "Why _did_ you pick me? Why not, like, Oceana?"

That's a drawer I didn't want to open, but now that it's been brought up, I don't think I can shove it away. I close my laptop and set it on the mattress beside me as I take in a breath.

"Um, yeah, I don't know. She's a bit..." I exhale heavily. "I don't know."

"It sounds like you do know," Andreas counters.

Yeah, I do know, but I don't know how to phrase it. It's all just been building up in my head for so long, and I've never tried to put it into words. I've never had to. Nobody's ever asked. Nobody's ever noticed. Because from the outside, Oceana and I are perfect, but inside... I don't know.

"We're just... I don't know. It's different now that we're dating. I mean, it wasn't at first, but now it's... I don't know."

Having said that mess of unclear responses, it occurs to me that nobody, especially Andreas of all people, would want to hear this. I doubt he actually cares about the problems I'm having with his ex girlfriend. But he probably didn't expect me to be so unsure either.

"I'm sorry," I say. "You don't want to hear this."

"No, it's okay," Andreas responds. "I'm your friend. This is what friends do. I think. My friends just drive their cars double the speed limit down highways while screaming to metal music."

I laugh, feeling a lot better about unloading my emotional baggage onto him. He seems to be good at making me feel better. He does it a lot.

"I like Oceana," I explain, "but sometimes I just feel like...this dumb little girl around her. Like, she's kind of way smarter than me—with everything. And sometimes when we talk it's like she talks, and I'm just...making noise."

I let myself fall back onto the pillows, too tired to hold myself up. I haven't vocalized those feelings yet, and now I can't tell whether I'm more relived or worried. While I stare up at the black ceiling, I hear my bed covers rustle as Andreas lies down next to me and turns his focus up to the same nothing I'm looking at.

"Nah," he says in a soft voice on the brink of being a whisper.

But he doesn't whisper. Whispering would be too unassertive for him. He likes to say things with confidence, even when it's the stupidest thing in the world. Somehow, stupid things sound sane when he says them.

"Your voice is definitely not noise," he continues, and then he stops and waits for the next line to form. "It's music."

How did that tiny, two-word sentence make my entire body feel this weird? Like, it's good, I think. But it's also just...weird. Unexpected, maybe. Because my heartbeat isn't supposed to go this fast normally, and my chest isn't supposed to feel this fluffy, and my hands aren't supposed to want his in them. It must be a comfort thing. Because he makes me feel comfortable and warm, even with thunder crackling outside and hail pounding the window. I actually forgot about the storm going on for a minute.

I tilt my head to look at him, but I don't even know what to say. All my head seems to be able to focus on is tracing each of his curls that rest on the pillow and watching his chest rise and fall with each breath he takes.

Suddenly, Andreas releases an awkward laugh. "That was weird, right?"

"No—I mean yeah—no—um..." Another thing I don't know how to put into words. "I didn't mind."

He smiles faintly before deciding to get back on topic, saying, "Tell me more about you and Oceana."

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

The clunking of ice on the roof doesn't help with my fear of thunder. It only feeds it more, making every bolt worse. TJ, being the sweetest husband ever, comes over where I'm looking out the kitchen window, and he holds out a steaming mug.

"I know storms make you uneasy, so I made you some hot chocolate with almond milk," he says. 

"Thank you," I respond with a smile.

I accept the mug and take a sip while he sips his own. Not even a second later, Amber and Andi come over to us, both looking annoyed now.

"We need your help," Andi states to TJ.

"Andi is making things up," Amber insists.

"I am not. Okay, TJ, do you remember Amber having a green, boxy-looking car when she was a teenager?"

TJ ponders it for a moment before answering, "No?"

"See," Amber says.

"No, I remember it," Andi continues. "I remember riding in it."

"He doesn't remember," Amber pushes.

"He has to!"

**Marty's POV**

Cara pulls Buffy and me by our hands into the living room. There, Wyatt is sitting on a chair, casually observing, while I have not been told anything about what this is.

"What exactly is happening?" Buffy questions.

"Take a seat," Cara orders, and Buffy and I sit down on the couch, but Cara motions with her hand, saying, "Closer."

I move in toward my wife a bit more, still lost.

"Cara, what is this?" I ask.

Cara sits down on the coffee table and puts one leg up so that her ankle is resting over her other knee.

"Call it a discussion," she replies. "Let's chat about each other, specifically you two. Mom, how does Dad make you feel?"

"Uh, what is this for?" Buffy wonders.

"Answer the question."

Buffy, although still confused, answers, "Happy."

"Just happy?" Cara interrogates.

"What do you want me to say?" Buffy asks.

"I want you to take this seriously!" Cara explodes. "It doesn't work if you're not honest!"

Tears start sparkling in her eyes, and the sight kicks my paternal instincts into action.

"Cara, are you okay?" I say.

"No!" she sobs. "Our family isn't okay!"

"What's wrong?" Buffy questions, just as concerned and me.

"I don't want you to get divorced," she weeps.

Buffy looks at me, and I mirror the same dumbstruck expression. Good to know neither of us know where she got that idea from. Buffy opens her arms for Cara, and the girl comes to sink down between me and Buffy on the couch, clinging to her mom's arm.

"Honey, we're not getting divorced," Buffy tells her. "Why would you think that?"

"Because me and Wyatt heard you through the vent," Cara says between sniffles. "You said it was broken, and that you needed something new."

Suddenly, we both realize what she's talking about, and Buffy brushes her fingers through the little girl's hair gently as she begins to explain.

"Cara, we were talking about the tupperware."

"Yeah," I say. "We were only fighting because I didn't want to shell out more cash on new containers that are just going to get broken or lost again."

"If you stop losing them, half your problem is fixed," Buffy replies.

"You're fighting," Cara sobs.

"No, Cara," Buffy corrects her. "We just disagree sometimes. But we always find a solution, because we love each other too much."

I smile at Buffy as I say, "Like for this, I'll...start writing Driscoll on the containers so they aren't lost, and we'll all be more careful not to break them."

"That's a great solution," Buffy responds.

She leans over to give me a kiss on my lips, reminding me of how lucky I am to have her. I couldn't imagine anyone else making me feel the way she does.

"Why don't I get a kiss?" Cara whines.

Buffy and I both turn our chins down to kiss our daughter's forehead, and she smiles.

"I feel left out," Wyatt suddenly says.

At that, Buffy waves him over, and he climbs onto the couch to stuff himself into our group hug.


	72. S2 E11.3: All Hail

**Andi's POV**

"I swear it existed," I keep going. "She had it for, like, two days before getting rid of it."

Finally, realization hits TJ's face. I knew it. I knew it existed. I'm not the crazy one. Amber is.

"Wait," TJ says. "Do you mean a purple car?"

"Was it purple?" I ask.

"One broken headlight?" he adds.

"Yes."

"Yeah, that car, the one she bought from Reed."

Amber gasps. "Oh my God. You're right. I think I blocked that out."

"Reed?" I repeat in surprise. "As in watermelon Reed?"

"I just saw it online," Amber explains. "I didn't check who was selling it, but then it turned out to be Reed. I only kept the car for two days, because he told me never to remove the seat covers when I bought it, and it seemed sketch, so I got rid of it right away."

"But we drove in it for one night," I say.

"I guess we did," she sighs.

"Well," Cyrus cuts in, "this was an interesting story."

"Yeah," Amber responds, "and it only came up because I wanted to buy a car that it turns out isn't anything like the one I used to have."

She gives me an annoyed look, to which I respond, "We'll talk about it at home," and her expression changes to a smile.

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

I made a mistake. I shouldn't have lied down next to her. Because every time I look at her, all I want to do is...more than I should. It's her black hair that shines like the raindrops hitting the window. It's the straight but soft structure of her nose. It's her eyelashes like sun rays that flutter as she blinks. It's my stupid self for being idiotic enough to get wrapped up around her.

"Sometimes she kinda shuts me down," Jayda says about Oceana. "Like, I know I'm not the smartest, and I don't have a lot to say most of the time, but, like, she has everything to say always, and she kinda...overpowers me, I guess. I don't think she does it on purpose. I don't know. Maybe she does."

I just nod. Oceana was like that with me too, but I didn't really care, because, I don't know, I don't think I paid much attention. She was a girl. That's all I really cared about. But I think now I want more than just a girl.

"What do you think I should do?" Jayda asks.

What do I think she should do? I probably shouldn't say that, because I know what I think she should do, but I'm positive it's not what she wants to do.

"What do you think you should do?" I reflect back to her, but she just tilts her head to me, and my eyes catch her lips for a second before I pull them away.

"I'm asking you," she says.

"You don't want to ask me."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm biased," I admit. "I don't like anything that makes you feel dumb."

"Then you'd hate all my math tests," she responds, looking upward again.

"Yeah, especially those," I agree with a smile, "'cause they make me feel dumb too."

She laughs and says, "When did letters become numbers?"

"I know, right? It's stupid."

"Totally."

Our laughter fades into silence, struck only by the beating of ice on the glass above Jayda's bed frame. It's dangerous, this stillness, because the longer we lie in it, the worse my stupid teenage impulses get. I don't do anything—but holy shit, I want to.

Then Jayda breaks the quiet, saying, "Should I break up with her?"

_Yes. Yes, you should. Break up with her. Do it now._

"That's up to you."

"I can't be in charge of choices," she mutters. "I'll just screw them up."

"Well, that makes making choices more exciting."

Her eyes fall down to mine again, and I feel my pulse hitting way harder than the moment calls for.

She starts to speak, "I..."

Before she can say anything more, her phone dings, and she sits up to check it. I force my body up too and try to peek over at her screen.

"What's that?" I ask.

She smiles gently and replies, "It's Oceana. She bought a charm for my bracelet."

She shows me the photo of the charm that Oceana just texted. It's a tiny silver crown with a phrase engraved on it: 'Your Highness.' I don't know the meaning behind it, but clearly there's something, because Jayda's staring at it with a smile.

"That's neat," I say, trying to mask my own disappointment.

"Yeah," Jayda says. Then after a second, she adds, "I was being dumb, wasn't I? Oceana's so sweet."

"I don't think you were dumb—"

"It's good that I didn't do anything. I would've regretted it."

She looks like she's still contemplating that statement, which makes me wonder how true it is. But she texts back a little sparkling heart emoji and locks her phone before bringing her focus back to me.

"Don't tell her I was thinking about that," Jayda tells me.

"Don't worry. I won't."

I'm not here to break her relationship. I just want her happy, no matter who that's with. But there is still one thought on my mind that I have to speak.

"Why 'Your Highness'?"

"Oh, it's a thing we have," Jayda explains.

"You know the higher ranking would be Your Majesty."

"Yeah. I don't know. We didn't think of that."

"Yeah," I respond.

But Jayda deserves to be Your Majesty.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

Cara are Wyatt drink hot chocolate together at the kitchen table while I keep my gaze out the window over the sink. The hail isn't as heavy anymore. Now it's more like corn snow that bounces on the deck. TJ's arm stays over my shoulder, and I hold the hand that hangs down, making sure it can't get away.

"At least the hail's lightening up now," I say.

"Does that mean, you're gonna let go of me now?" he asks.

"It's unlikely."

He smiles and accepts his fate, but the doorbell gives him his freedom as I let him go, and we head toward the door to see who it could be. Buffy is the one who opens it, and in comes one of my friends whom I haven't seen in a strangely long amount of time. Yes, a few days is strange for us.

"Walker!" Buffy says.

"Sorry," Walker responds with a smile. "We had to wait for the hail to stop before coming in."

"Wait, I haven't seen you for multiple days," Buffy realizes.

"Nice that you're just noticing," Walker jokes.

"Where have you been?" Andi asks, coming over with Amber.

Everyone is gathered around the doorway now, except for Jayda and Andreas who I assume must still be upstairs.

"South Africa," Walker answers.

Andi's eyebrows go up in surprise. "South Africa?"

"Yeah," Walker confirms. "We were picking someone up."

Andi is confused, asking, "What do you...?"

Her thought is lost as Jonah steps in carrying a little baby in his arms. The baby looks around with big brown eyes at all the faces around them, and they're dressed up in red overalls and a white T-shirt like a little candy cane.

"You got a baby!" Amber squeals.

"And you never told us!" Andi complains.

"We didn't want to get anyone's hopes up before it happened," Jonah explains.

**Andreas's POV**

Jayda and I have returned to the spots we started in, sitting on opposite ends of the bed from each other, her with her laptop open. But sounds of admiration and awe from the floor below get both our attention.

"Sounds like something's going on downstairs," Jayda figures.

"Yeah. Or they're just that excited about the hail ending."

She smiles a little at that then stands up, saying, "Let's check it out."

I join her, reaching the door before her so that I can open it up and wave her forward.

"After you," I say.

Rather than accept the gesture, she just looks at me and states, "You always do this."

"I'm chivalrous," I reply with a shrug.

"And I can handle going second."

She motions for me to go ahead, but that only gets another wave from me.

"You first," she orders.

"Jayda, you know there's no way in hell I'm going to let you go through this door after me."

A soft smile finds its way onto her face, and she finally accepts my stubbornness and leaves the room, but her eyes remain on me as she does, playing with my pulse like it's a toy she owns. I guess it kind of is.

**Walker's POV**

"Whose baby?" comes Jayda's voice as she and Andreas come down the stairs to cluster in with the rest of the family.

"Jonah and Walker's," TJ replies.

"What's the name?" Andreas asks.

"Her name is Austen," I answer. "Austen Beck."

"Adorable. Why that name?" Amber asks.

"Well, we never actually chose one," Jonah admits, "so we panicked and picked this."

"What's the middle name?" Hazel wonders.

Jonah and I snap our eyes together as we realize our mistake.

"I knew we forget something," I say.

Hazel just laughs and says, "You two will make great dads."

Everyone remains around my daughter in admiration, but no one is as fond as me and Jonah. My husband hasn't been able to take his eyes off her since we got her, and even now he watches her with a smile on his face. Personally, I still can't believe this is happening right now. It's like a dream that was accidentally brought to life. It's too good to be real, but it is. We have a daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, um, I nominate "Falling" by Harry Styles as the Jaydreas song. Not saying anything about the plot, but let's just say I listen to that song on repeat whenever writing them. Also, you can stop threatening to sue me now. Wonah has a baby. Thank you.


	73. S2 E12.1: Party Girl

**Walker's POV**

Jonah gets the door, and his mother enters in, giving him a hug on the way.

"Where's my granddaughter?" she asks.

Her expression goes soft as I carry the baby girl over to the door. We only got Austen a couple of weeks ago, but she's almost four months old now. Her head rests against my chest as I hold her with one arm under her bottom and the other wrapped around her torso. Amber and Andi got her an orange dress that always makes her eyes go wide when she sees it, so I decided to dress her in that for Judy's visit tonight.

"Oh my goodness! Isn't she adorable!" Judy says. "She's so calm."

Judy smiles wide at my baby, giving her arm a little stroke hello. Austen, of course, just gazes up at her grandma with no clue what's going on, but soon she'll be developed enough to know.

"Yeah, she's always like this," Jonah responds. "She really doesn't do anything. Kinda boring."

"Well, you should've seen yourself as a baby," Judy says. "You were stiff as a rock all the time. Sometimes we thought you'd been paralyzed, but you were just content with doing nothing. Wouldn't even move when doing the mommy-baby yoga with me."

"Mommy-baby yoga?" I repeat.

"It's a class I taught for new moms," Judy explains. "Helped them stay fit while bonding with their babies. Being a mom, it's hard to find time to exercise."

"Is there daddy-baby yoga?" I ask.

"Definitely. I know a bunch of places you could sign up for. If you want, I could even lead us in a little workout right now. You two will have to take turns with the baby, though."

I look over at Jonah who shrugs, replying, "Sure, why not."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Marty and I are curled up together in the basement together watching television when our daughter stomps in front of the TV and turns it off.

"Mom, Dad," she says, "I've given it a lot of thought, and I've decided I want my present for my eighth birthday to be a trampoline."

"Cara," I respond in confusion, "you've already had your eighth birthday."

"Correct, but I haven't had a trampoline."

"Okay, why do you want a trampoline?" Marty asks.

"Because I'm tired of having to make friends with lame people just to play on their trampolines."

"Cara, trampolines are dangerous," I tell her. "If you guys used it one at a time, it would be better, but you and your siblings can't get along that well."

"I thought you'd react this way, which is why I had Brayden develop a presentation for me."

Brayden appears from behind us and begins plugging in a laptop so that the image appears on the television.

"Cara," Marty says, "we're in the middle of a show."

"Your kids are the best show of your lives," Cara states. "You signed up for this by having us."

Marty and I share a glance, knowing we won't be getting out of this.

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

"Keep your baby at your hip, and lunge into warrior two."

With the furniture moved out of the way in the living room, Judy leads the yoga, while Walker and I follow. Currently, he's holding our daughter, trying to stay balanced at the same time.

"Trade," Judy instructs.

Walker passes off the baby to me, but the instant I get her, I'm locked on her beautiful little face and tiny features, forgetting all about the yoga. Part of me still expects to wake up at some point. Because she certainly can't be real. She must be a cherub, not a human, because humans are imperfect, but angels aren't, and Austen, she's as perfect as it gets.

"I can't believe something this precious exists," I whisper.

"That's exactly what your dad said when you were born," my mom says, abandoning the yoga.

"Really?" I say.

"Yeah."

I look down at my girl again, studying the way her dark brown eyes resemble those of a doll, and her coily, black hair is growing, getting longer every day. Eventually, it will be time for a haircut. I can't believe I'm excited for something so small like that. But it will be her first, and every first is a milestone, no matter how simple.

"Is it weird that I already don't know how I'd live without her?" I ask.

Walker's arm closes around me, and his hand wraps over mine to hold our daughter together. My mom watches close by, but I'm so focused on my daughter. At first, it's subtle, but then it becomes more defined: she's smiling.

"She's smiling at you," Walker says.

All of a sudden, the reason becomes clear at the sound of food passing through her, followed by the stink.

"I'll change the diaper," I say then take her up to her room.

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

Cara smacks the powerpoint on the television with a metre stick, shouting, "Next point!"

"Please stop hitting the TV," Buffy begs.

"Trampolines equal fun," Cara states, "and fun equals keeping us busy, and what does that equal? Less money spent on damages."

"But if you damage yourself, hospital bills cost way more," Buffy argues.

"But I won't get hurt," Cara replies, "because my brothers and I will only use it one at a time."

"You guys can't even agree to use the washroom one at a time," I remind her.

"I've already talked to Brayden, and he's afraid of jumping."

"I'm not afraid," Brayden speaks up from the side. "I'd just rather be on the ground."

"So he won't be a problem," Cara goes on. "And Andreas will be off doing his own thing anyways. Do either of you even know where he is right now?"

I look at Buffy, hoping she has an answer, but it's clear that neither of us do. Ever since Andreas got his license, he's started just going places, and he only tells us once he's already gone.

"You make a good point," I admit.

Cara grins proudly and smacks the ruler on the TV again, ordering, "Next slide!"

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

The house is huge, but it feels stuffy with all the bodies packed into it. Pop music sets the tone for all the teenagers mingling and laughing together with cups and bottles in their hands. I've never been to a party before, but somehow I let Darius convince me to come to this one. He said it was going to be chill, which I can't argue with, seeing as everyone is just talking, but some people I try to avoid seeing, specifically the ones blowing smoke clouds in the backyard or the couples leaving absolutely no room for Jesus while dancing. I follow Darius through the space, trusting wherever he's headed.

"This is exciting, but, like, I also feel like I'm gonna pass out," I state.

"Yeah," Darius responds. "I figured you'd be like that."

"So, like, what do people do at parties?"

"Hang out," Darius answers. "Chill. Sometimes get too chill. Other times get way not chill. Depends on how they feel."

"I'm just gonna pretend like that was a good answer."

It feels like seeing wild animals in their natural habitat. I'm seeing teenagers, unconstrained by the rules of school, now roaming free at a party. No supervision. No developed moral compass. No guiding values. They just do what they want without thought. Each clique is easily spottable: the populars, the jocks, the skaters. Tucked into the crowd are several straight couples making out, images I try to erase from my mind.

"Why do I look at straight people and think 'ew'?" I mutter.

"Thanks," Darius replies dryly. "I'm not offended at all."

"Not you. You're romantically straight, but you're not like that."

I motion toward the handsy couple that's currently stretching past the PG rating on my life.

"Yeah," Darius says, "being ace helps me."

He turns back ahead and continues walking, but after a few steps, I notice a familiar face in the kitchen, and I grab Darius's arm, pulling him back.

"Uh, not that way," I say. "That's my cousin."

"You don't wanna see your cousin?" Darius questions.

"I told my moms I was having a movie night at your place," I explain, "not a party at... Whose house is this again?"

"I don't know," Darius answers. "Some sophomore."

"I don't want to risk Jayda telling them the truth by accident or on purpose."

Darius obliges and reroutes our path.


	74. S2 E12.2: Party Girl

**Jayda's POV**

Tay holds out her phone with the hand that isn't holding a bottle. She's the kind of person who likes straight whisky. She also thinks life is better when she's hammered, so that's a thing. I can definitely drink more than her and be fine, but I prefer a Smirnoff instead. On Tay's phone is an image of a black and white rose sketch that appears to be dripping away at the bottom. She said one of her friends drew it for her during class, and now she's obsessed with it.

"That's totally cool," Angel says.

"Thanks," Tay responds with a grin. "Next time I'm drunk enough, I'll go get it tattooed."

Interrupting the conversation comes a boy who steps between me and my friends, giving me a grin like he must think he's the shit.

"Excuse me," he says. "I didn't know there'd be a model at this party."

"Sorry," I respond. "Not interested."

"I think if you got to know me a little more, you'd be very interested."

"I think, since you obviously speak English, you should probably figure out what the word 'no' means."

He keeps his chin up as he backs away, keeping up his cool act, at which I roll my eyes. When I turn back to my friends, they're looking at me in shock.

"Jayda!" Angel says. "Why did you do that? He was cute."

"I'm not into him," I say.

Confession: I haven't told my friends about Oceana yet. I know that I probably should, considering it's been months, but they run in different circles anyway, and to be honest, I'm afraid of how they'll react finding out I'm with a girl. Like, they know I have two dads, but having a friend with queer dads is different than having a queer friend.

Angel shakes her head, saying, "We really need to get you a boyfriend."

"I'd love it if you didn't do that," I retort.

Angel rolls her eyes. "Whatever. I'm gonna get another drink."

She starts to walk away, and I follow behind her, feeling annoyed, saying, "Me too."

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

"And the money can come out of my college fund," Cara finishes, "because I'm going to join the circus anyway and won't need it." She puts down her ruler and the presentation goes to black. "What do you think?"

"It was a good presentation," I reply. "Kinda long though."

"I was covering all my bases," Cara says.

"Yeah," Buffy says. "So you want a trampoline."

"I thought the presentation made that clear."

"In their defence," Brayden chimes in, looking at Cara, "you were a little all over the place."

"Yeah, we didn't need the part about the average number of rainy days in Shadyside," I say.

"I don't want you guys saying it's too rainy to have one," Cara reasons.

Buffy lets out a breath and looks at me before telling the kids, "You two, go somewhere else. We're gonna talk."

Cara scurries away while Brayden takes his time, but eventually they're both out of the room. With them gone, Buffy focuses on me, her eyebrows raised.

"You want to get it, don't you?" she says.

"I would be kinda fun," I respond.

Her lips curl into a smile. "Fine."

"Yay!" comes Cara's cheer, and Buffy and I spin around to see her eavesdropping by the staircase.

"You weren't supposed to listen," Buffy tells her.

"I'm always listening to everything," Cara replies.

This time she actually does leave, running upstairs happily. For Buffy and I, a previous matter is brought back.

"Where is Andreas?" Buffy wonders.

"No idea," I answer, "but he's probably fine."

"Yeah," Buffy agrees. "I really wish he would tell us when he leaves the house."

"We'll make that a new rule starting tomorrow," I suggest.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Darius and I have found a comfortable place against a wall to stand and talk while I observe the other party-goers around me all not watching their volume. After a while, another face approaches, one I couldn't possibly forget.

"Hey, guys," Adrian says.

He glances from Darius to me, holding his eyes on me for an extra second before becoming fidgety and passing his red solo cup between his hands.

"What's up?" he goes on. "Either of you want anything to drink?"

"I'm good," Darius replies, lifting his own cup a bit, "and Hazel doesn't drink."

He raises his eyebrows. "No?"

"I like my brain better when it's not impaired," I elaborate.

"Fair enough," Adrian replies before taking a sip from his cup. "So what have you been up to lately?"

I hear the question, but my eyes have wandered left onto a girl standing alone by a window. I've seen her before, and I'm pretty sure she knows who I am, since we're in the same history class, but I've never spoken to her. She's a level of attractive that severely outreaches how far my social skills extend. She wears baggy jean shorts and shoulder-length hair with a short sleeve button up shirt worn unbuttoned to show a thin-strapped cropped top. And she has an eyebrow slit. If she wasn't already way out of my league, that pushed it over the edge.

"Hazel, he's talking to you," Darius says.

I break out of my stare to return to the boys, but it's too late, because Darius has already noticed the source of my admiration.

"You looking at Kylie?" he asks. "She's a lesbian, you know."

"Why would I care about that?" I say, crossing my arms.

"Damn it, Hazel. Go talk to her," Darius insists.

"I'm flattered that you think I have the confidence for that," I reply.

At that, Darius manually unfolds my arms for me and spins me around, pushing me forward as he says, "Go talk to her."

Having been forced away from my friends, there's only one way for me to go. Actually, there are many. I could go hide in the washroom or join the stoners in the yard. But the obvious choice is right ahead of me, and I'm already halfway there, so I make my heartbeat shut up for a minute so that I can finish my walk toward Kylie. When I go over, she flicks her eyes onto me and takes another sip from her cup.

"Hey," I say. "Um, I like your style."

She gives me a nod and a short smile, replying, "Thanks."

She says nothing else, and I feel my nerves start to grope my bones, making my hands shake a little, and I have to clasp them together to keep them still.

"Um, I'm Hazel."

"I know who you are."

"Oh, cool."

She's quiet again. Maybe she's just nervous like me. That's plausible, right? Should I go? Should I try again?"

"Um, I like your—"

"Hey," she says, cutting me off, "I'm a lesbian. And you're not, like, a real girl, so can you, like, not?"

For a moment, I'm stunned, speechless and motionless, unsure how to react. I've heard that before, that I'm not a real girl, but usually it's from old people or transphobic teenage boys who just want someone to pick on. I've never heard it from a girl I liked before.

Finally, I manage to get my legs working again, and I whip around, rushing back to Darius and Adrian, trying to hold in the downpour pricking at my eyes. It's humiliating. I put myself out there only to get shot down, and honestly of all the ways she could've turned me away, she had to choose that way. But maybe she has a point. Maybe I'll never be girl enough for another girl to like. Under all the makeup and clothes, I still have a long way to go before ever being like the rest of them. Screw this. Screw them. Screw everything. I just want to disappear.

"Didn't go well?" Darius guesses.

If I can't make myself disappear, at least I can make my feelings disappear. Rather than answer, I grab the cup from his hand and chug it. I don't know what's in it, and it tastes awful, but I don't let up.

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

Britain and Waleed both have their eyes half closed as they stand. I would want them to sit, but all the seats at the party are occupied, so instead they're just swaying back and forth gently while they smile.

"Bro," Waleed says. "It feels like I'm flying."

"Bro!" Britain replies. "You are."

"No, you're both high," I say.

"We're both flying high," Waleed responds.

"Woah," Britain breathes. "I can see Andreas's nerd cousin from up here."

Nerd cousin? I glance behind me at where he's looking, and my eyes spring wide when I spot Hazel laughing with some boys she definitely doesn't usually talk to, a cup in her hand. Based on how not uptight she's being, I take it that's not just pop she's drinking. Why is she here? Since when does she come to parties? She's supposed to be anti-social and boring.

"Hey, I'll be right back," I tell my friends. "Don't trip over your own feet while I'm gone."

I wind through the crowd to get over to Hazel. As soon as she's within reach, I grab her arm and pull her away from the boys. She gives me an annoyed look and rips her arm from my hand but stays in front of me.

"What are you doing here?" I interrogate. "Why are you drinking?"

"I'm drowning my excruciating emotions in alcohol," she slurs then raises her cup. "May I bask in the loveliness of being numb."

I steal the cup from her grip and set it down on a counter behind me, saying, "I'm cutting you off."

"Are you my dad now?" Hazel snipes.

"You don't have a dad."

"So stop being mine!"

She whirls around and stomps into a hallway to get to a doorway.

"Where are you going?" I question.

"I'm going to my room," she growls back.

"That's a closet."

"Exactly where I should've stayed!"

She pushes the door open and slams it shut behind her, leaving me in the hallway and worried.


	75. S2 E12.3: Party Girl

**Jonah's POV**

Austen is now sound asleep, but even as I sit with my husband and mother in the living room, I still can't stop worrying about my daughter. Every noise I hear, I glance back toward the stairs, wondering if it's coming from her room.

"That's just wind chimes," Mom tells me when I react another time.

"She wakes up a lot, so I thought it might've been her," I explain.

"Jonah," my mom says, "I can tell you're nervous about being a dad."

"Me? Nervous?" I laugh it off until my laughter becomes overtaken by my anxiety, at which point I admit, "Yeah."

I'm good at not caring about things, and I'm comfortable with that, but this is my child. I can't make mistakes with her. I need her to grow up okay. What if I'm bad at that?

"The trick to parenting is to trust your instincts," my mom says.

"I don't think I have those," I respond. 

"Everyone has those. Becoming a parent, that's when they tend to show up most. Like what do you do when she cries?"

"I don't know. Feed her. If that doesn't work, I play her a John Mulaney set to cheer her up."

"You also sing to her," Walker reminds me.

"Yeah, I do that too."

"See, there," Mom says. "You can get her to stop crying, so you can already do something that many parents struggle with. Don't doubt yourself. You're gonna do great. And you've got a wonderful husband to help you out."

Walker smiles at my mom, saying, "Thanks, Judy."

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

"I don't get you," Angel yammers. "You pass up on perfectly good guys for no reason."

Tay's expression shows that she agrees with every word coming out of Angel's mouth, but I'm just trying to drink my Smirnoff, waiting until she stops talking.

"Do you want to be single forever?" Angel asks. "Makes no sense. If I were you, I'd stop being so picky and just go on a date already. Why won't you even try to get a boyfriend?"

I finish the last drop of my drink and smack the bottle down on the table behind me before spinning back to Angel, and with my newfound confidence given to me by the alcohol, I state bluntly, "I doubt my girlfriend would like that."

Tay and Angel's jaws both drop.

"You're gay?" Angel says after a minute to process.

"No, I'm bisexual," I correct her. "Stop thinking it's gay or straight. It's a whole-ass spectrum."

Angel furrows her brows. "So you like everyone? Ew, wait. Do you like me?"

"No. I'm bi. I don't have bad taste."

I whip around to leave my friends, but after a few steps, I bump into Andreas who I guess was looking for me.

"There you are," he says.

"How'd you know I was here?" I question.

He raises an eyebrow, saying, "Has there ever been a party you weren't at?"

"Point taken. What do you want?"

"Hazel's drunk and in a closet."

It takes my brain an extra second to realize what he just said. Hazel, my goody-two-shoes cousin who thinks cider is hard liquor is drunk? Who died for her to want to do that?

"Shit," I mutter. "What happened?"

"I don't know."

He leads the way down the hallway up to a door, and the minute he opens the walk-in linen closet, the smell of vomit hits me. My cousin sits on the floor, leaning against a rack of towels, looking completely drained.

"Oh, it's you guys," she mumbles. "Sorry about the smell. I threw up in that bucket."

I look to the other side of the space, seeing the Home Depot orange bucket with the brown fluid in it. Gagging from the fumes, I lift the bucket to put it in the hall for those people to deal with before shutting the door and sitting down next to Hazel, and Andreas sits by her other side.

"So why were you drinking?" I ask. "You're supposed to be the one who tells me not to drink."

"You don't listen anyway," Hazel says in her scraped-up voice.

"Why didn't you listen to yourself?"

"I did listen," she says. "I listened to Kylie tell me I wasn't really a girl, so she could never like me."

As if she has an endless supply of fluids to lose, her eyes start to spill tears.

"What if I never find a girl willing to date me?" she sobs. "What if they'll always see me as a boy pretending to be a girl?"

"That's stupid," Andreas replies. "You're as girl as any other girl."

"I don't look like them," Hazel weeps.

I bring my arm around her, saying, "I know. But someday you will if you want to, and even if you don't, I promise you there will be a great girl who's not transphobic who will like you."

Hazel sits quiet for a minute before a smile grows on her face, and then she tells us, "I'm starting estrogen soon."

"Hazel!" I say in excitement. "That's huge! Why didn't you tell us?"

"I was kind of busy throwing up earlier."

"Before that."

She shrugs. "I don't know."

Hazel looks between Andreas and me, smiling again.

"I really appreciate you guys," she says. "Can you not tell my moms I was drinking?"

"I think they'll be able to tell anyway," Andreas says, "but sure."

He stands up then reaches down to pull Hazel up onto her feet, and immediately, both he and I need to hold on to her to keep her from wobbling over.

"Let's get you home," he says.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Andreas and I help Hazel out of his car, resuming our teamwork to keep her upright as we walk toward the door of her house. We go slow to avoid losing our balance, and she's sort of holding herself up, but also not really. She's still definitely sloshed.

"What's puberty like?" she asks me.

"Awkward," I answer, "and kinda gross. Think of it as a pro that you won't start bleeding every month."

"Ew," Andreas mutters.

Hazel and I both snap back at the exact same time, "Grow up, Andreas."

"Sorry," he says. "It's actually pretty badass if you think about it. Chicks will be practically dying and carry on like it's nothing."

After getting up the porch steps, Hazel fumbles around her jacket pockets to find her house key, which she does successfully, but getting it in the lock is another story. I have to take over to unlock the door for her.

As soon as the door swings open, Andreas, Hazel, and I are greeted with the faces of Auntie Andi, Auntie Amber and both my dads sitting around the TV, now looking highly concerned at the three of us.

"Oh, hi," Andreas and I say simultaneously.

Auntie Amber's face shows deep worry as she asks, "Is she drunk?"

"Nope," Andreas lies. "Just constipation." He adjusts Hazel's arm around him and starts walking toward the hall, saying, "Come on. Let's get you to the washroom."

Hazel let's me go, and Andreas helps her to her bedroom. I start to follow but am stopped by the sound of Papa's voice.

"Jayda."

I pivot around on my feet, going back over to my dads with an innocent smile.

"Were you drinking at all?" Papa asks.

I hesitate for a moment before saying, "Define drinking."

That's all the answer he needs, and he shakes his head while Daddy continues to look at me in distress.

"You didn't drive, right?" Daddy checks.

"I did not," I answer proudly. "Andreas drove, and he is completely sober." But also, you wouldn't have noticed that I had any alcohol if Hazel hadn't been drunk. My tolerance is great."

"And that worries me a little," Daddy responds.

My attention is pulled over to Andreas as he reenters the room, saying, "She's gonna rest." Then he looks to me, asking, "Want a ride home?"

I look over at my dads who are my other option for getting home, but with them I'm probably going to have to listen to Daddy lecture about the dangers of underage drinking the whole way home, so it's really not much of a decision.

I return my eyes to Andreas, replying, "Yes, please."

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Andreas drives a black Ford Mustang. It's old, and you can hear that as it rumbles to a stop in front of my house. He puts the car in park but leaves the engine on. That means I should probably go now so that he isn't polluting the air for too long, but after unbuckling my seatbelt, I can't get myself to leave yet.

"Hey," I speak up, turning my body to face him better, "you were a really good friend to Hazel tonight."

"You were a good cousin," he responds.

"You noticed she needed help. I didn't do that."

He smiles, showing his thanks without having to say it. For a few seconds, I follow his eyes as they trace my face, making me feel exposed, like he can see every piece of me. But I don't hate it. 

"Hey, I overheard what happened with you and your friends," he says. "I've never told you, but I want to make sure you know that I think bisexual Jayda is just as good as straight Jayda was."

I look down for a moment before responding, "Well, straight Jayda never existed."

"Even better. Bi Jayda is my favorite anyway."

I smile, and a laugh finds its way out of me, releasing along with some nerves I didn't know were there.

When my eyes find his again, he's suddenly moved on to the radio which he turns up when he notices what song is playing. "[Falling](https://youtu.be/olGSAVOkkTI)" by Harry Styles fills the car, shaking the structure with its glorious vocals and deep bass. Andreas brings his eyes back to mine while I'm staring at him in curiosity.

"You listen to Harry Styles?" I say.

"I figured you would," he replies. "I heard bisexuals like him."

"That's a stereotype. But I do like him."

He grins then presses the buttons on his car door, making all the windows roll down to share the music with the rest of the nighttime neighbourhood. A streetlight flickers at the exact moment he does that, like it's trying to dance.

"Oceana would hate this," I say. "She's very insistent on following municipal noise laws."

I don't know why I thought of her. Maybe it's because of how not like her Andreas is. She's really...tame. But he's... I don't know what he is. And I think that's what makes him so exciting—because I'm constantly finding out.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not her," Andreas responds.

"Yeah."

There's a moment when the beat of the music lines up with my own pulse, and suddenly everything feels so in sync, like the sun and moon are going to rise together tomorrow. He looks at me, one of his eyes partially hidden by a loose strand of spiralling hair. Why does he always look at me like this? I swear he doesn't look at other people this way. But also, if he ever stopped, if he ever cut off this bizarre string that loops me in his eyes with every glance, I'd be disappointed.

"Um—" I blink my way out of our silence "—It's pretty late. I should get inside."

"No problem," he replies.

He reaches for the dial and turns down the music, but I wish he would keep it playing, at least until the song finishes. It takes me another minute before I can push the car door open and step outside. I take a step toward my house before turning back around and looking into the vehicle at Andreas through the open window.

"Thanks for driving me home."

"No problem," he says with a smile.

Now there's no reason to stay any longer, so I return forward, walking up to my door. Before I go inside, I end up giving him one last look back, but he's already pulling away from the curb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. The next episode will be on July 21. Thank you guys for reading. I really hope you liked this episode. It's my favorite of the season, but that doesn't mean shit isn't about to go down. So yeah. I love you all. Bye! :)


	76. S2 E13.1: The E in Hazel

**Brayden's POV**

The jumble of students passes by like schools of fish, but I remain at my locker, neatly packing my books onto the shelf like a game of Tetris. There's no space to waste, so I make every millimetre count. I do plan to take some of these books home, but I often forget when they're shoved so tightly into the tiny compartment. A familiar voice draws my attention away from my locker for a moment, and my eyes latch onto Deion's of who is walking with a couple of his friends, but seeing me, he stops, letting himself fall behind the flow of the others then comes my way. I smile and continue putting my stack of books away as he leans against the locker beside me.

"Hi," I say.

"Hey," he responds. "Uh, I finished that book you lent me."

"You're proving the disbelievers wrong," I comment.

"Because I finished a book?"

"Because you can read," I tease.

Deion grins at that, or just at me. It's unclear which.

"Did you like it?" I ask.

"I'm gonna be honest, I had to look up about every fourth word in a dictionary, which I didn't even know I owned before I went looking, so lots of the story was lost on me, but I think I got the general idea."

"And that was...?"

"That even the best person can forget their morals when given power," he answers proudly.

I smile, happy for him as well. Who knew he would end up enjoying the same books as me? I certainly wouldn't have guessed that.

"Did you listen to the record I lent you?" Deion asks.

"I did. I didn't expect it to be jazz, but it was good. I think I found my new study music."

"Yeah, my grandpa played in a jazz band," he explains. "I never knew him, but I tried to learn as much as I could about him."

"Is that why you play the guitar?" I wonder.

"Yeah, uh, I don't know. It makes me feel kinda...connected to him, I guess."

The rattle of the school bell defines the end of our conversation, and I shut my locker then bend down to pick up the books that I'll need for class that I sat on the floor.

"You heading to class?" Deion asks me.

"Where else would I be going?"

"Right. You're not me."

That makes me smile, and we set off for history class together. Once arrived, the two of us split to find our seats, him at the back, and me behind my friends who give analytical stink eyes to Deion as I sit.

"I still can't believe you talk to that imbecile," Linny states.

"He's not that malign once you get to know him," I insist.

"Either way, I'm not comfortable with you two being friends," Kelsey rebuts.

"I appreciate your protectiveness, but it's superfluous in this situation."

"Has he even apologized for being mean to you for so long?" Kelsey challenges.

I sink into soundless consideration, dreading the actual answer. No, he hasn't. Not once has he mentioned feeling any form of remorse for his actions. But he's different. He's positively not the same as before. But never has he acknowledged that. I wonder why.

"Yeah," Kelsey huffs. "That's what I figured."

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

Hazel's ginormous grin calls for all the focus as I stop washing dishes in the kitchen and look over to her entering the room.

"You excited?" I ask.

"Yes, yes, but I'm totally calm," she replies in a frantic voice. "I'm not freaking out. Just because I'm taking estrogen for the first time— Oh my gosh!" she explodes in enthusiasm. "I'm taking estrogen today! I'm gonna get, like, female things! I'm gonna get boobs!"

Suddenly, Amber steps into the kitchen, wondering, "What are we talking about?"

"Hazel's boobs," I answer.

"Right," Amber says, remembering the plan, "you ready?"

"Yes," Hazel replies, "but I'm also lowkey terrified. Would you guys be with me while I do it?"

"We weren't planning on leaving you alone anyway," I respond.

"Thank you! I'm confident, but I'm also really scare I'm gonna mess it up."

"You learned all this with the doctor," Amber reminds her. "I think you'll be fine."

"You're right," Hazel says in a loud exhale. "I just need to calm down."

She spins around, returning to her room while trying to monitor her breathing, but her anticipation continues to get in the way.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

When I come through the front door of my home, Jonah walks up to me.

"How was your day?" he asks.

"Pretty good. How was Austen?"

"Cute," he replies. "She discovered her feet."

He glances back, making me notice where Austen lies on a baby mat on the living room floor. She holds one of her legs up as she gnaws on her toes, seemingly never getting bored of the activity. Smiling, I go over to kneel down next to her and start tickling her stomach, turning into those parents who say weird things just because they're talking to their baby.

"Are you having a snack?" I say. "Yeah?"

My daughter kicks her leg down and squirms around while giggling loudly. When I stop tickling her, she pauses, her face going blank for a moment, but a second later, she starts blowing raspberries, making spit fly everywhere. I have to use my sleeve to wipe it off my face, but Austen seems pleased. Now, she starts to roll over to her stomach and reaches out for a CD that's fallen off the shelf set where the television sits on. Before she can grab the CD case, I quickly swipe it and put it on the shelf.

"No, that's not a snack," I say.

Although too far away for her to grab, the CD is still in her sight, and with it gone, she starts crying. I lift her off the ground and stand up to rock gently while holding my sobbing daughter.

"Shhh, it's okay," I say.

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

He would never admit it, but with how often I've seen Deion in drama club recently, I'm beginning to think he can't be completely opposed to it. Nobody with rational decision skills would continue to repeat the incidents that led to being here unless they actually do enjoy it. The tech booth at the back of the theatre is empty aside from him, and I give him a curious look as I find my chair at the table of controls.

"Detention again?" I say.

"I can't help it," Deion replies with a smile. "Teachers hate me."

"Teachers would like you if you behaved better."

"All I did was not finish my homework. I didn't shove anyone over."

"I'm glad you've retired that," I respond, recalling when he used to do stuff like that to me.

"Yeah, that didn't really feel good," Deion mutters.

"I believe it."

I grab the clipboard that has the lighting and sound directions for each scene of the spring musical, then start glossing over it.

"You get detention a lot now," I point out.

From the side of my eye, I see Deion just shrug. Of course he won't confess his true feelings. He could just tell me that he likes it here. I wouldn't judge him for it, but for him, simply using detention as an excuse is easier. Just avoiding emotions seems to be his typical procedure. That could be why he's never apologized. And I'm content with that—or I was. But Kelsey's words stick in my brain, and now I can't shut off the stream of insecurities hitting me, so I try to ignore them.

"What do we have to do with these buttons?" Deion asks.

"Um, the guy who usually works lights and sound is sick," I explain, "so we just have to follow along with the rehearsal and hit each button when directed while they practice each scene."

"Cool."

He comes to take the chair next to me, and with him right here, I need to settle my concern.

"Deion, are you ever going to apologize to me?"

"What?" He looks baffled.

"For bullying me all that time. Is there a reason why you did that?"

That's when his old, angry self flashes back as he says, "Even if there was, I wouldn't tell you."

"I see a nerve has been struck," I note.

"You struck nothing," he snarls. "Just shut up. What do we have to do with these stupid lights?"

"I would answer, but you told me to shut up."

"Whatever," he huffs. "You do it alone."

He shoves his rolling chair away to the corner of the room, as far away as he can get from me, where he starts going on his phone. I guess I'll be doing lights and sound alone today.


	77. S2 E13.2: The E in Hazel

**Cyrus's POV**

The movie theatre is filled with people mingling around outside the ticket and snack stands, but nobody is in either line, because tonight isn't a regular night at the theatre.

"I'm so excited for your film," Buffy says, walking in beside me.

There's a short film festival tonight here for LGBTQ+ films by small film companies, and the one I work for got one of its short films in this. Since TJ is working late tonight, I invited Buffy, because she responded first, and I only got one extra ticket. I'm wearing one of my button-ups to look somewhat formal, but Buffy is only in jeans and a T-shirt. There was no dress code, but she's currently looking around at all the filmmakers who all have a style that makes it quite obvious that they're filmmakers.

"Everyone looks so...Film-y," Buffy comments. "Look, that person's wearing a beret, and that is most definitely a blazer from the '70s. I feel like I should've dressed different."

"Don't worry, Buffy. You look great," I assure her.

Suddenly, Buffy's head stops turning and latches on to the back of another woman across the floor with curly, dark hair and a navy wrap coat. As her profile comes into view, Buffy narrows her eyes even more.

"You see that woman over there?" she asks.

"Yeah."

"She looks kinda like..."

When the woman turns all the way around, there's no mistaking her.

"Kira," Buffy hisses. "I thought I'd seen the last of her after high school."

"I guess people still exist even after we stop knowing them," I say, "although part of me wanted her to just be a very detailed nightmare."

"She's coming this way."

"Oh, joy."

"Slayer?" Kira says in a honeyed voice, full of fake excitement. "Cyrus. Heyyyyy. How have you been?"

I force a polite smile on my face, even though I'd rather just leave.

"Wonderful," I reply flatly. "Do you have a film showing?"

"In this thing for small companies?" Kira scoffs. "No. I was just here to throw out some garbage, these diamonds earrings I got that ended up being 22 karat gold instead of 24 karat. Honestly, some people just can't get it right."

"What do you do exactly?" Buffy questions.

"I own a business of very popular makeup products," Kira says. "You've probably heard of it. It's called Prismshine."

Buffy nods, although reluctantly.

"What do you two do now?" Kira asks.

"Also super successful," Buffy blurts. "I manage an even bigger brand."

_I guess we're lying now?_

"Oh, really?" Kira responds. "What one?"

"Uh, Google."

_Yes, we're lying._

"Wow. Impressive. And what about you, Cyrus?"

I'm about to answer truthfully, but Buffy replies for me first.

"He works for a super big film company. Way bigger than these. He's also rich."

"Wow," Kira says.

I look over at Buffy, scolding her, but she doesn't let me affect her. Then Kira's phone rings.

"Hold on," she says. "I gotta take this. Don't leave."

She steps away to take the call, while I turn to Buffy, my disappointment plain as day.

"Buffy, why did you say that?" I question.

"Because she's rich and successful, and I'm not letting her come back twenty years later and beat me," Buffy states.

"Buffy, life isn't a game. She can't beat you."

"She can't," Buffy agrees, which makes me happy for about one second before she adds, "because I'm going to beat her."

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Austen stares up at me with her big eyes from where she lies on her play mat. Meanwhile, Jonah is busy making dinner for us in the kitchen, the scent of which wafts toward me.

"Smells good," I call out.

"Thanks," Jonah responds. "I'll make sure to tell DiGiorno Pizza you like it."

He peaks out of the kitchen to smile at me, and I laugh. When I look back to Austen, she has her foot in her mouth again, but when she meets my eyes, she drops her foot and reaches for my hand instead, and I let her guide it up to her mouth where she starts gumming on my pinky finger.

"Okay, sure," I accept.

"Is this a sign that she's going to be a cannibal?" Jonah asks as he comes out from the kitchen to sit on one of the living room chairs.

"I don't think so," I reply.

"Good."

While still sucking on my finger, she uses one hand to start reaching toward the CD shelf again, and soon she stops caring about my hand, and I take it back for myself.

"You still want that CD?" I say to her.

She reaches and reaches but her arms are too tiny, and she hasn't yet figured out how to move.

"Alright," I breathe.

I take the CD case from the shelf, and bring it over to the CD player where I take the disc out and get the song going. Austen is back to eating her foot again, but Jonah looks pleased by the song choice.

"She chose The Who," Jonah notices. "What can I say? We're raising her right."

We let the song play for a moment but then Austen starts reaching for the CD case again, and I sit back down on the floor with her.

"Sorry, Jonah," I tell him. "I think she's more interested in the case."

Austen waves an arm out at the case, but I sit it on the table instead of giving it to her.

"No," I say.

Within seconds, the baby's face scrunches, and she starts bawling. I let out a sigh, and grab the CD case again, bringing it back to her.

"Fine," I breathe.

She immediately grabs the CD case, but rather than hold it and look at it, she begins sucking on one of its corners.

"She still has good taste," Jonah says, "just in a different way."

I smile back at my husband before pulling the CD case out of our daughter's mouth and putting it back on the table. Of course, the crying comes back in an instant.

"Nope," I tell her. "That case isn't good for you."

As her crying persists, I come up with another distraction, giving her my finger again, which she grasps on to and brings to her mouth to start gumming away.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

"Moms!" shouts Hazel.

Amber and I both follow the call into our daughter's room where we find her sitting on her bed, with a basket of all the tools she'll be needing. In her hands, she holds up a tiny, clear vile of liquid, then she tips it around as she smiles at it.

"This is it!" she says. "This is the estrogen."

"It looks like water," I comment.

"Don't drink it," Amber says.

"I'm not going to drink it. It just looks like water."

Hazel lowers the vile to examine it more personally.

"Why did I expect it to be, like, some weird colour, like a Harry Potter potion?" she asks.

She sets the vile back in the basket on the bed then picks up a cardboard box filled with dozens of needles.

"And here are the needles," she says. "I'm going to put one of these in my leg."

She stares down at the box, and I begin to notice that she's chewing on her lip from the inside. She's nervous, which is understandable. I'm probably more nervous that she is. This is my daughter, and although I know nothing bad will happen, my heart's beating like we're about to walk into a war.

"Are you okay?" I ask her.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm—" She switches from her calmness to total anxiousness in an instant. "Why did they give me so many needles! Do they think I'm gonna break one on the first try!"

I sit down next to her on the bed, saying, "It's okay. You've got this," but she's still breathing way faster than normal.

"Did you wipe the spot on your leg already?" Amber checks.

Hazel nods, and after a moment, she recollects herself and breathes, "Okay."

She puts the box back in the basket and picks up one of the needles. She knows all the steps well, probably because, if she's anything like me, she's already gone over them on repeat in her head for hours. Once the needle is set to the correct dosage, she passes that to me to hold while she wipes the top of the estrogen vile, and soon she has the needle in the vile, and she's attempting to draw the liquid into it, but something's not right.

"Why am I only getting air?" Hazel huffs in frustration. "Ugh! I'm already failing! Why didn't I just choose patches?"

"Because you didn't want it to be visible, and you like not having to worry about it for longer," Amber reminds her.

"Just take a moment to let yourself calm down," I say. "We'll figure this out together, okay?"

Hazel nods and sucks in a deep breath. She holds it for a moment then lets it out, saying, "Yup, deep breaths still don't do anything."

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

"So Cyrus," Kira says, having finished her long phone call, "what films have you made?"

I'm not a very good liar, so I look to Buffy, giving her the responsibility of that.

"Uh, so many big ones," Buffy replies, "but you probably wouldn't know them. They're a little advanced for your taste."

Kira gives a cold smile as she flicks her eyes down over Buffy and back up. "Those shoes tell me my taste is at least better than yours."

"My personal stylist picked these out," Buffy answers in a rush. "They're a very high-end brand. I understand why you wouldn't get it. I could refer him to you if you want? I can tell you could use the help."

The glares of both women keep burning into the air.


	78. S2 E13.3: The E in Hazel

**Brayden's POV**

"Wonderful!" shouts the drama teacher at the actors on stage. "And spotlight!"

I flip the switch, making light flood down on the girl in the middle in a single beam. As she begins her monologue, I glance back at Deion who remains enticed by his phone. When the actress finishes speaking, I turn the spotlight off, and the teacher tells everyone to take five. Feeling the silence caving in, my instinct to end it ignites.

"My friends don't think I should be friends with you,"I state.

"They're probably right," Deion mumbles.

I spin around in my seat, asking, "Why is that?"

"Because I'm just a jerk who's gonna put you down all the time." He sounds angry but in a melancholy way.

"Recognizing the mistake is the first step to changing it."

Deion's eyes remain downward as he says, "I can't change. I'm a bully. Always have been. Always will be. Just some screw-up who gets detention all the time."

"Interesting, because I don't think many screw-ups go home and do puppet shows for their little brother because he can't go to sleep without one."

He still doesn't look up, but his eyes are motionless. He's listening, pondering.

"I don't think screw-ups will help do every chore for their mom to make life just a bit easier for her."

"Yeah, well," he mutters, "this screw-up does."

Up until now, I never realized just how deep Deion was cut. I don't know what from, and I don't think I could ever understand it entirely. That's probably why I speak in metaphors a lot: because it gets close to describing the indescribable, so I never have to actually explain what I can't comprehend.

"You don't have to give me a reason why you acted the way you did," I tell him. "Whatever it is, it's yours to know, not mine."

When he still doesn't speak, I take that as my cue to turn back to the controls and give up.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Deion suddenly says.

I smile to myself. Deion's not beyond emotions. He just feels them too hard. But he's sorry. That makes me a lot more relieved to know.

"So this button starts the music," I begin as I point to the controls, and Deion rolls his chair back in to listen, giving me a smile.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

After some problem-solving and reviewing of the instructions, Hazel finally managed to get the estrogen in the needle.

"Okay," she says, holding the tool up. "All I have to do is put this in my leg."

She's doing surprisingly well at controlling her hand, although her nerves are trying to make it shake. For another moment, she stares at the sharp tip of the needle, preparing herself.

"Do you want us to do it?" Amber asks.

Hazel shakes her head. "No. I'm independent and capable. I can do this." She closes her eyes to calm herself, but then she opens them again, saying in a shaky tone, "Ahhh. Why is this so terrifying?"

"It's normal to be scared," Amber replies. "Most people don't give themselves needles."

"There's a whole group of angsty kids at Grant who give themselves needles all the time," Hazel says. "If they can do it, I can do it."

"Please don't base your decisions off theirs," I respond in concern.

"Here I go," Hazel says.

She brings the needle down to her leg and starts pushing it down. Once it breaks the skin, my brain ends up in a constant debate due to how much I hate watching needles but how much I also really want to make sure Hazel does it okay.

"Ow, ow ow," she repeats until it's all the way down. "Okay, it's in."

The she starts injecting the clear liquid, which, by her more content expression, seems less painful. The problem comes when she pulls the needle out, and a spurt of red squirts out.

"Shit, there's blood!" she screams.

Amber comes to save her by giving her a gauze pad, pressing it to the skin to soak up the blood. Hazel sets the used needle down on its wrapper in the basket before letting the moment sink it and a smile flood to her face.

"Oh my gosh. I did it!" she says, leaping up.

She hugs both me and Amber tightly then steps back, beaming like the sun, holding back from letting all her excitement out.

"You want to scream?" Amber asks with a grin.

Taking the offer, Hazel lets out an ear-splitting half-squeal-half-scream, releasing her joy into the world.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

Having gotten past all the questions about lifestyle and occupation, Buffy's still trying to find the flaws in Kira's situation, but we've already concluded that any of those flaws will come in a four-story mansion on the town's edge with a butler and nine cars.

"So do you have a partner or any kids?" Buffy asks.

"Oh, gosh. Who has time for that with all my money?" Kira replies.

I don't see the relation, but I don't feel like pointing that out.

"Oh, no one would marry you?" Buffy snipes.

"Actually, I have eight open relationships," Kira says. "One man is in France. Another in Belgium. Oh, and I can't forget about the prince."

"A prince?" Buffy echoes, gritting her teeth.

"Yeah," Kira says with a smirk.

Tired of staying quiet, I finally speak up, "So you don't know the joy of having a family."

"Families are overrated," Kira replies.

"I wouldn't say having people constantly there who love you and look up to you is overrated. I think it's highly underrated, actually, at least in your life."

"I presume you're married, then?" Kira says bitterly.

"Yes, to TJ Kippen."

"Oh, that boy."

"Yes, and we have a daughter and a son who both showed me happiness that I didn't know was possible."

"Isn't that nice," Kira's sarcastic tone sounds. "Did you get that line from a gretting card?"

"You know, Kira," Buffy finally joins in, "I was trying to impress you, but I don't know why. I'm not rich. I have a regular house with a perfect husband and three very...interesting kids, while all you have is stuff and money that won't buy you anything near what I have."

"Wow," Kira responds, widening her eyes. "You know what money can buy me? The private jet I'm going to now for my trip to Tokyo."

She grins condescendingly and struts past us, heading out the theatre doors. Buffy and I both watch her with jealous scowls.

"Why'd you have to get all truthful?" Buffy mutters.

"I don't know," I sigh.

"Now I have to switch makeup brands."

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

"Pizza's ready," Jonah calls.

I come into the kitchen to smell the simmering cheese with Austen in my arms, perched on my left side. Her eyes are starting to flutter as her head rests on my shoulder, and the music from the CD player cradles her ears.

"I think she does like The Who," I say to Jonah. "She's going to sleep."

"She finds it that boring?" Jonah responds.

"No, she finds it soothing."

My husband smiles as he watches our daughter fall into slumber on my hip.

"As long as she likes it," he says.

"I'm gonna go put her to bed," I whisper.

I carry the baby upstairs to her room, feeling her chest rise and fall against mine with each one of her tiny breaths. She truly is an angel in human form, just a little, foot-eating baby who finds wonder in literally everything. That's what I was missing before I got her. I forgot how incredible every single piece of the universe is. She's showing me that again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more episodes left of the season. Next one comes out on July 23.


	79. S2 E14.1: Better Suited

**Cyrus's POV**

My eyes flutter open into the summer daylight streaming in, but when I roll over, TJ isn't there beside me. Groggy, I push myself up, but my sleepiness vanishes the instant TJ comes out of the washroom in jeans and missing a shirt. The lighting plays on the ripples of his muscles, defining every groove, and making his body a sort of light show for me to admire.

"Hi," I say.

TJ grins and approaches the bed then leans down to kiss me. Like molasses, our lips slowly drip apart, clinging on as long as they can before letting go.

"Happy anniversary," TJ says.

"To you as well."

TJ steps away and opens the chest to grab a shirt and pull it over his head. Naturally, I end up staring.

"You should keep the shirt off," I tell him.

He grins as he turns around, saying, "I would, but I actually have somewhere to be, and you do too."

"Where?"

"I thought because this is a special year, we could do something special."

"Eighteen is a special year?"

"Every year with you is special."

That's so soft it makes me smile even softer.

"How do you feel about renewing our vows?" he asks.

"That's the sweetest idea ever," I fawn.

"Yeah?"

Rather than answer, I climb out of bed and go over to kiss him again.

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

When Buffy and I enter the basement, the picture I see is the exact one Buffy said it would be.

"You were right," I tell her. "They're in these exact positions."

Andreas is busy gaming on the couch. Brayden is on another chair, reading a book. And Cara is sitting on the carpet at the coffee table, colouring her sketchbook beside Andreas's propped-up feet.

"Okay, listen up," I say.

The gunshots of the video game don't stop, and Andreas doesn't even give me a glance.

"Andreas, as much as I want that robot's head to explode too, you gotta pause."

He sighs and does as asked before removing his headphones and turning to face me and his mom.

"So Cyrus and TJ are renewing their vows today," I explain, "and we've all got to go and support them."

Brayden is the first to respond, saying, "Uncle TJ likes to think he's better than his mother at giving notice, but lately, all the events he's planned have been done so the morning of."

"Although that's true," Buffy agrees, "we still have to be there."

"Do we have to dress up?" Andreas asks.

"I'd like it if you didn't wear jeans and a T-shirt," Buffy answers.

"Cool," our oldest responds. "Sweatpants, then."

"Uh, no," Buffy shuts down. "Something decently nice."

"If we're dressing nice," Cara chimes in, "then I want a suit. You promised at Monsoon's funeral, remember?"

"Did I make that promise?" Buffy wonders, looking at me.

I shrug. "I don't know. I was too busy being sad about you hating my motorcycle."

She narrows her eyes, and I scramble to figure out why.

"Our motorcycle?" I guess.

"You did," Cara interrupts, "and I still don't have one, so we need to go shopping."

"Cara, I would, but we said we'd help set up," Buffy explains.

"Brayden and I can go over there to help," Andreas offers. "You take Cara to the mall."

Buffy is surprised but smiles, saying, "That's thoughtful of you."

"Yes," Brayden mumbles sarcastically, "volunteering other people for work is thoughtful."

Andreas gets up from the couch and walks past his brother, giving Brayden's book a bonk up with his hand, putting a scowl on Brayden's face.

"Was that thoughtful?" Andreas says.

"Not at all," Brayden replies.

"Good."

"Okay, Cara," Buffy says, coming back to the topic, "go get your shoes on."

Cara grins wide and springs to her feet excitedly.

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

I should've known that they'd be renewing their vows at the park. I've heard several stories about how they fell in love at this park. Also, it's free and open, so that makes it even better. TJ and Cyrus aren't here yet, but I do see Andi and Amber setting up some decorations and seats, with Hazel helping as well. Jonah and Walker are here as well, but they're busy talking to Austen who Walker is holding. She's currently chewing on Walker's shirt, which I guess doesn't bother him. She must do this a lot.

"Oh, a child. How lovely," Brayden mumbles. "I'm going to go talk to Hazel."

He splits away from me, so I go over to Jonah and Walker, giving them a wave.

"She's getting bigger," I say.

"Slowly but surely," Walker responds.

Jonah taps Walker's arm and tells him, "I'm gonna go help set up chairs."

"Okay," Walker replies. After Jonah's gone off, Walker looks to me again and asks, "Hey, if you're not doing anything, would you want to watch Austen while I help set things up?"

"Uh, I guess."

Before I can remember that I have no idea how to take care of a baby, Walker passes the child to me, and I do my best to hold her in my arms so that she doesn't fall. As Walker leaves to join his husband, I stare at the baby with eyes wide in minor fear. My knowledge of babies is this: they're dumb, and their only survival instinct is to cry.

"So, uh, what's up?" I say.

"Abababa," Austen babbles.

I nod. "Cool, cool."

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

Amber and I both release breaths as we sit the arbour of flowers in front of the swing set.

"It's perfect," I state.

"Yeah, it's pretty," Amber agrees.

It's a strange placement for anyone else, but it wouldn't be TJ and Cyrus's vow renewal if they weren't standing under the swings. This is pretty much where everything began for them. I remember Cyrus telling me about that first day here, how he was scared of TJ at first, but now I'd literally give my entire life's earnings if TJ did anything to hurt Cyrus on purpose. They are a two-parter, designed for each other. They're like me and Amber, but I'd argue we're better. I do have a bias, though. Amber brushes her blonde hair behind her ear as she examines the arbour, the blue flowers in it brightening the blue of her eyes.

All of a sudden, we're interrupted by the approach of a man with permanent forehead lines and a beer belly in a plaid shirt. He doesn't even need to talk for me to hear his gruff voice in my head, but he still does.

"Excuse me. My family is having a picnic here soon."

"Okay. We won't bother bother you," I say.

"No. We're going to have a picnic here."

He points to the ground, and I furrow my brows.

"This specific spot?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Well, sorry," Amber replies, confused, "but we were here first."

"This is a public space. You can't be putting arbours in the middle of them," he huffs.

"I'm pretty sure you have no authority over me," Amber responds, crossing her arms over her chest.

But then the man whips out his wallet and flashes a silver badge in Amber's face.

"Look who's wrong!"

At first, I'm shocked, but then I read it closer.

"That says 'Deputy Fun Chief' for Giggles Arcade," I state.

"Oh, we have a know-it-all here," he sneers.

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

I've never seen Cara so excited in a store before. She winds around the racks of clothing like a bee in a meadow, eyes darting around to search for what she wants. When she stops at a T in the path, I try to direct her.

"The kids' suits are that way," I say, pointing left.

"Don't help me," she responds.

She pops her finger in her mouth and raises it up, like testing the air. Then she immediately turns left.

"Does checking the wind help?" I mutter, puzzled.

"No," Buffy answers.

We trail after our daughter until she finds the suits. She gasps before instantly swiping through jackets and pants.

"It's all so pretty!" she says.

When she turns a corner to investigate a rack of coloured dress shirts, a little boy probably a couple years younger than her stops and looks at her.

"This is the boys' section," he says.

Without wasting a breath, Cara quips, "So why are you here?"

"Cara!" Buffy says in shock.

"Man, she's quick," I mutter.

The little boy runs over to his dad, looking upset, and Cara goes back to looking around at the clothes. She moves on to a rack of tuxes in various colours.

"Do you think they have checkered?" Cara asks.

"They might," I reply.

She flips one more hanger over then pulls out a pants and jacket set in baby blue.

"This is it," Cara states with the biggest smile.

"It's beautiful," Buffy says. "Do you want to pick out any others to try on."

Cara shakes her head. "Just this one."


	80. S2 E14.2: Better Suited

**Andreas's POV**

"Here we go," I breathe as I take a seat on the park grass.

After getting myself comfortable, I place Austen down in front of me, needing to give my arms a break. However, when I place her on her bum, she only stays upright for a couple seconds before beginning to tilt, and I pick her back up to stand again.

"Cool, not doing that," I say.

Out of nowhere, she starts to cry, and I'm terrified, trying to understand what I'm supposed to do.

"What do you want now?" I huff.

The crying continues, and she of course gives me nothing to let me know what's wrong.

"You're not gonna get anything in life if you keep whining about it," I tell her.

"I wouldn't normally step into a situation with a tiny, brainless human," says my brother, coming over to me, "but this is uncomfortable."

"Yeah, the baby's kinda dumb," I agree.

"Okay, we'll say I was referring to the baby."

I think I'm offended, but he also carries on before I can really figure it out.

"Have you tried feeding her?" Brayden asks.

"All I have are mints," I explain.

"The bottle," he states, his eyes drooping in disappointment.

"Oh, yeah, that's probably in Walker's bag."

Brayden goes over to where the satchel is on the grass. Walker gave it to me earlier, but I didn't know why. I guess this is probably why. My brother finds the bottle and comes over, passing it to me. With a nervous hand, I bring the bottle to the baby, and she starts sucking on the tip, which makes her shut up in an instant as she drinks the milk.

"It's working," I say with a smile. "When did you get good with babies?"

"They're literally the simplest form of human life, and not even just of human life. Most mammals are smarter than them. They're not that hard to understand."

"Huh."

Austen stops drinking, backing her head away from the bottle, and I get worried again.

"She's not drinking anymore," I say.

"She's full," Brayden states.

I guess that makes sense. I pass the bottle back to Brayden then wrap my other hand around Austen again, holding her upright in front of me. She's actually pretty cute. Lucky for her. If she weren't, nobody would want to deal with this. Then she smiles at me with her lips pressed together.

"Hmmmm," sounds her little hum.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," I say.

I spoke to soon, because right after, she throws up. Thankfully, I manage to hold her out away from me before the puke can get on my shirt.

"Never mind," I say, shaking my head. "You take her."

I shove the baby at my brother, and he accepts her, letting me get away from the disgusting thing.

"I suppose since my brother is incompetent, I'll clean you up," Brayden says to her.

She giggles as Brayden carries her past me to get wipes from Walker's bag.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Not one minute behind. Oceana steps out of her house at the exact time I said I'd be here. She always does things to the second, not a moment late. I'm the opposite. Fifteen minutes late is on time, and if I say I'm on my way, it means I've actually run out of gas and need to get that, plus I haven't even left the house. But people expect it. It's built into me. Oceana doesn't really get that, though. The only reason I managed to make it on time to pick her up from her house today is because I don't want to hear another one of her talks about how I should start checking the time and getting ready earlier. I do get ready earlier, but then it takes longer. I don't know how. It just does. But she doesn't get that.

"Noon on the dot," I say as she climbs into the passenger side of my daddy's car, which he lets me drive.

"I like being on time," Oceana responds with a smile. "Makes sure people aren't waiting for me."

Wow. Even being on time today, I didn't avoid the targeted comments.

I put the car into drive and steer out into the road while Oceana gets buckled. Her work isn't too far away, so I won't have to drive her for that long at least.

"Thanks for driving me, by the way," she says as I turn a corner. "I hate bothering you with this, but I guess I need functioning breaks to drive my own car."

I laugh with her before she asks me a question.

"What are you up to today?"

"Uh, my dads are renewing their vows."

"Oh my gosh. If I had known, I would've gotten someone to cover my shift."

"Oh, yeah. It was kinda last minute."

Honestly, I'm kind of glad my dads only mentioned it today. I like Oceana but...it's just not how I thought it would be.

"That's okay," Oceana says.

"What did you do today?" I ask.

"Um, I finished a physics project."

"Oh, cool. What was it on?"

She laughs lightly as she says, "You wouldn't know what I was talking about anyway."

"Yeah," I breathe. "You're probably right."

I take a right turn, and Oceana glances back.

"You missed that sign," she says.

"Oh. Well, it's too late to stop now."

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

"You need to move your little ceremony," the man huffs.

I can't believe we're still arguing with him.

"My brother's renewing his vows," I state,

"My family is renewing our picnic tradition, so you need to move."

"Why can't you sit over there?" I say, pointing to a wonderful patch of grass just the same as literally every other place in this park, but he wants to sit here. Like, seriously, who has picnics on playground gravel?

"Because I'm allergic to grass," he says, "so I need to be on gravel."

"There's gravel over there," I tell him, motioning to another part of the park.

"I'm allergic to that gravel."

Okay, I'm going to kill someone.

"Well, tough for you," I bark.

"Amber," Andi says, noticing how annoyed I'm getting.

"My brother and his husband fell in love under these swings," I push, "so we're not moving."

"Well, I fell in love with tuna salad under those swings," the man retorts, "so I'm not moving."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

"Ready?" Cara shouts from inside the change room.

Marty and I sit on the bench just outside it, waiting for our daughter to show us her outfit. She doesn't wait for our response. She just whips the curtain open and steps out with her hands in the pockets of her blue suit. She looks so happy too, like standing-on-clouds happy, ice-cream-before-dinner happy. She does a spin before stopping in front of the mirror to view herself.

"Wow," I say.

"Pretty dashing," Marty adds.

Cara tilts her head at her reflection. "It needs a top hat."

"I don't think they sell those," I say.

"Well, I can't go anywhere looking this boring."

"You're in a light blue suit," Marty says. "That's not boring."

She walks out of the hall of dressing rooms to peek into the store again. Without notice, she bolts away. Before I can question what she's doing, she's done, returning with a black and white checkered button-up.

"This is the missing piece," she says.

I smile as she runs back into the change room, shouting, "I wanna look like a race car flag!"

While she's behind the curtain, I lean over to Marty to whisper a thought that's been on my mind since—well—a while, but mostly today.

"Do you notice that she's kind of—I don't know how to phrase this—not very girly?"

"Yeah, she's a tomboy," Marty replies with a shrug.

"Yeah, but...I don't know. Sometimes she just...seems like maybe she's not entirely in the same...mindset, I guess, as other girls her age."

"I don't think it's anything to be worried about."

"Oh, no, I'm not worried. I'm just...thinking."

"Well, she's young. She's got a long way to grow."

"Yeah."

After finishing our conversation, we wait another moment until Cara comes bursting out of the change room. She steps up to the mirror, looking very pleased with her ensemble.

"Mom, Dad," she says, "we got it."


	81. S2 E14.3: Better Suited

**Jayda's POV**

"Hey, if you want, like, a refresher driving, I can help you," Oceana offers.

I keep my eyes ahead, muttering dryly, "I'm good."

"You just changed lanes without checking your mirrors."

"Aren't you observant."

I try to push her judgements out of my mind so that I can focus on not hitting the car in front of me. Her phone rings, and I think maybe that will keep her occupied, but then she hits decline, something she rarely does. She even answers to telemarketers to tell them she appreciates their offers.

"You're not gonna answer?" I say.

"They'll leave a voicemail."

"Who was it?"

"My mom," she replies.

Okay, that's totally false. I saw the caller ID, and it wasn't her mom.

"It said it was some fancy academy or whatever."

"Oh, yeah," she says, pretending like she didn't lie. "Uh, well, Synchrotron club—"

"Your complicated physics club?" I ask.

"Yeah, um... Anyway, we made a plan for a model that you wouldn't get, so I'll skip explaining it, but, um, we won an award from the province for a contest."

"That's amazing," I say, and I do mean it. "Did you already get it?"

"No, um, we're getting certificates at a dinner thing where we can meet the governor, and yeah."

"That's really cool." Then I give her a glance before looking back at the road. "How come you didn't tell me? Did you not want to?"

"No, I did, but... You know, we're allowed guests, and I was going to bring you, but you... Well, you know. You'd feel out of place."

I don't know why that simple statement makes me want to cry. Why is my chest tight from trying to keep myself together? Why is it suddenly so much harder to read the road signs passing by. I think I'm going too slow now. I check the speedometer and press my foot farther on the gas.

"Right," I mutter. "Because I'm not into all that science-y stuff."

"Everyone there will be really smart and respectable, and you'd feel weird. I didn't want you to feel bad about it, so I didn't tell you. I'm sure you understand."

"Yeah, no, I get it," I say, blinking away the liquid starting to well.

I manage to keep my eyes dry, at least enough that they don't spill over, but it only makes my core curdle more. She doesn't think I'm good enough for her smart people friends, and yeah, I guess I can't argue with that. I'm not like her. I'm not insanely smart and generous and considerate of every stranger I see—but I'm at least considerate of her. If she's that way for me, then I'm clearly missing it.

I stop before turning at the next corner.

"Hey, you got that sign," Oceana says. "Good job."

I don't respond, not out of anger, but just because...I don't have anything to say. I pull up in front of the shop she works at and put the car in park.

"Thanks for driving me," she says.

"Yeah, sure."

She gives me a smile before opening the car door to leave, and once she's gone, I can feel the air loosen. I don't drive away yet, though. Instead, I find myself fiddling with my charm bracelet, touching the little crown charm that Oceana gave me. I don't think it should burn to hold. This isn't normal. Or maybe it's normal, but...it shouldn't be.

My fingers slip down to the clasp and undo it—I think by accident, but I can't be sure. But now that it's hanging open over my wrist, there's nothing attaching it to me, so I lift the bracelet off and drop it into my purse, out of my sight. My wrist feels lighter without the chain on it.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

"You have one more chance to leave, or I'm calling the police," the man threatens.

"And tell them what?" I scoff. "We're renewing out vows in your picnic spot?"

All I can say is this man is very lucky there are children around, or he'd have a hard time every having a stupid picking again with no teeth. Then Hazel shows up between Andi and I, folding her arms as she looks skeptically at the man.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you drive a white Sudan?" she asks.

"Yes. Why?"

"Well, you're parked on a permit-only street, and I noticed you don't have a permit in your car. Now, I've written down your license plate, but if you, say, leave now, I might lose the paper."

My daughter smiles smugly at the man who has a look of defeat.

"Well played," he says.

Finally, the man trudges away, and I turn to face Hazel, my incredible saviour in this time.

"Hazel, I'm so proud of you," I say.

"Well, I learned from the best," she replies.

"You're getting troublingly good at manipulation," Andi comments.

"Well, I'm a Ravenclaw, but I like to think I'm a Slytherin at heart," Hazel says.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Cara runs ahead of Marty and I toward the park, beaming wider than the sun in her suit. As soon as she sees Andreas holding Austen, she rushes up to him.

"Look!" Cara says.

Andreas smiles and gives her a look over.

"Lookin' snazzy," he says.

"You've been taking care of Austen?" I observe.

"Yeah," Andreas replies. "Whoever said babysitting was hard doesn't know anything."

That's when Brayden steps up next to him, saying, "I directed him on everything."

The next person to get our attention is Wyatt who leaves Amber and Andi, whom he was finishing decorations with, to announce to us, "My dads are gonna be here soon, so sit please."

**Andreas's POV**

While the rest of my family finds their seats, I spot Jayda walking over from her car. She looks frustrated, but it could just be because she's trying to walk on uneven grass in stilettos.

"Hey," I say.

When she looks up, her eyes fall off me and onto Austen who makes Jayda light up in an instant.

"Oh my gosh," she says. "This is what I needed."

"To see a baby?"

"They're adorable and make anyone feel better," she responds.

Austen stares at Jayda with a smile, but I'm looking at her in concern.

"What are you trying to feel better about?" I ask.

Jayda hesitates a moment, touching Austen's arm gently, before answering, "Just stuff."

Then she reaches through my hands to steal Austen from me, and I'm honestly really relieved. I've realized babies are not my thing. They're cool when they're not my responsibility, but not when I'm in charge of making sure they don't die.

Jayda rests Austen on her hip, saying to her, "I can't wait 'till you're old enough to walk, and then we can go buy shoes together."

Seeing Jayda's mood lifted makes me smile as she carries on past me toward the chairs where the ceremony is about to take place. I kind of wish I were the one making her smile though.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

The second I see where the rows of chairs and the arbour are located, I turn into romantic mush.

"By the swings?" I say.

TJ walks on the grass beside me toward the park, dressed in a suit like me. He doesn't dress up often, so when he does, it's always hard for me to take my eyes off him.

"I didn't even pick it," TJ responds, "but I think our friends know what they're doing."

The beginning of a [song](https://youtu.be/-itZVX-SUkI) playing over a wireless speaker spikes my emotions even higher as I recall my arms around TJ at our wedding reception, the two of us dancing in the centre of the floor, officially husbands for the first time. Before that, when we were teenagers, I played this song in his car once, and he told me it reminded him of us, and it become another one of what we consider to be our songs.

"'Lemon Boy'?" I say like a question, even though I already know the answer.

"Our first dance song had to be included," TJ says.

He smiles and holds his arm out, which I accept, sliding my elbow through his. The two of us walk down the isle created by our little Good Hair Family. If this were less last minute, we probably would've invited other people, but they've already all seen the wedding. This is small—to them. To me, it's everything, just like anything with TJ is everything to me. Our kids wait at the end of the line, Jayda holding a piece of paper while Wyatt just smiles beside her. As TJ and I stop and turn to each other, I get an urge to tell him I love him, so I do.

"Good thing," TJ replies. "Otherwise this would be embarrassing."

I smile at that, and Jayda glances between the two of us.

"Okay, cool, so..." Jayda pauses to read the paper before whispering, "Oh my God. That's long." She looks back up at us then asks, "I'm gonna skip past the intro. Uh, Papa, do you still take Daddy to be your lawfully wedded husband in sickness and health and avalanches and tax evasions and all that stuff?"

TJ grins as he looks at me, responding, "Yeah."

"Daddy, do you take Papa in... It's a lot of writing that I kinda don't want to read, but you know what it is."

My eyes stay linked to TJ's the way they've been since he first looked at me the day he helped me get that chocolate chocolate chip muffin.

"Yes," I breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season finale will be out on Saturday! Then there will be another short break before season 3. I'm hyped guys. I hope you all are too.


	82. S2 E15.1: Uncharmed

**Brayden's POV**

Most people avoid the cracks on the sidewalk, treat them like some kind of sever in the otherwise unscathed foundation. They swing their legs a little farther to miss the divide and remain safely on whole ground. Deion has no such urge. He steps freely, as I suppose a regular person should, but regular people really aren't that regular when it comes down to little quirks. He notices me watching him when his foot slaps down on a crack, and to keep my attention, he stretches his next foot extra far to hit the next crack immediately. Before he can step on another crevice, I rush forward to plant my foot on it, and then the next, and soon we're competing to see who can walk entirely on breaks in the cement, laughing together until I stumble and fail, and we return to normal. It's peculiar, because me walking through my neighbourhood with Deion King is hardly normal under even a bizarre lens, but this is us now. At some point string turned to ribbon, and I don't recall when or how.

"Have you ever seen Casablanca?" I ask, sparking the conversation again.

"Nope."

"Well, do you want to watch it tomorrow? I've only ever seen it alone."

"I'm down," he replies, "but my house is gonna be taken. My mom's having friends over for dinner. I could come to your place?"

Here's the predicament. It's true that Deion and I have been friends for a few months, but I've only ever been to his house. Him coming to my house would be a completely different thing. Why? Because my parents know his name, and what they know is not favourable. How am I supposed to explain the strange events that resulted in me befriending my former bully. Even I struggle to understand it. We shouldn't work, but somehow we just do, like corn snow in the summertime or sun during the rain.

"Um... Yeah, that should be fine," I answer.

This could very well be something I regret, if my family doesn't take well to his presence. I wouldn't blame them, but I would be disappointed. However, thinking about this won't affect the actual outcome, so I'll simply have to wait.

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

As soon as my eyelids open, my tired sleepy mind pieces together the sight of my wife sitting in bed beside me while working on her laptop. This isn't rare for her. She loves to push herself to get her work done whenever she has the time. Sometimes, though, I think she should take a break, like now.

I sit up and give her a quick kiss on her temple, which she only responds to by saying, "I'm working."

"You just woke up," I say.

"You just woke up," she corrects me. "I've been up since four."

"Four?"

That's disgusting. I don't care if there's a fire or tornado; no one should ever have to wake up at four. I reach up and close her laptop down.

"Nope," I say. "No more work for you. Go back to sleep."

Buffy puts on a smile before leaning over to kiss my lips, but she scrunches her eyebrows as she pulls back.

"Go shave," she says. "Your face is all rough."

"Okay."

I climb out of bed and start for the washroom, but before getting through the doorway, I hear the sound of Buffy raising her laptop again and look back.

"Don't try it," I tell her.

Buffy sighs and sets her computer down on the mattress, and I enter the ensuite to get my razor, but before I can even do anything, a little white object on the sink counter grabs my eyes. It takes me a second to realize what it is, but when I go over and see the lines, there's no way I could mistake this for anything else. I'm in shock as I spin around, seeing Buffy standing in the doorway watching me.

I try to find the words, but I'm too dumbfounded. "You're..."

A slight smile forms on her face as she nods, and in that moment, I rush over to hug her. We end up laughing together, probably as some way to get out our clutter of emotions. The surprise is a lot of my head right now, also joy and some stress, but I'm mostly just excited.

"When do you want to tell everyone else?" I ask.

"I was thinking tonight at Cyrus's," Buffy answers.

"Okay," I respond. Then a moment later, I release another breath, saying, "Wow."

She smiles. "I know."

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

TJ and I walk around the neatly stacked bins in our storage room, while Walker and Jonah glance around, unsure what to look for. Which makes sense. I hardly remember what I'm looking for.

"So how come you never gave these toys to the other kids?" Jonah wonders.

"Because TJ lost them," I reply, "and we just found them yesterday. The problem is finding them again."

When TJ was looking for his old baseball award he got as a kid, he came across a box of Wyatt's old toys, ones we had completely forgotten about. He was a picky kid, so only every fifth or so toy that we got him he played with. The rest ended up in storage without being touched, and we didn't remember their existence again until yesterday. But now there's a bunch of stuffed animals, baby blocks, and teethers that we still have.

"Uh, the box was grey," TJ says as he glances around.

"All the boxes are grey, TJ," I state.

He looks around in uncertainty. "Yeah..."

All of a sudden, Austen's high-pitched laughter is heard from the main room in the basement.

"Are you sure you're comfortable with Austen being alone with Wyatt?" I check.

"I don't see why not," Jonah says.

Wyatt is eleven, almost twelve, so by just the age, one would be fine with the arrangement. But I know my son, so I'm a little more worried. Before I can continue rummaging through the boxes, Wyatt peaks his head into the doorway and shouts to me and TJ.

"Hey, Dads, where's my big RC truck? I wanna see if I can drive Austen around on it."

Walker immediately goes for the door, saying, "I'll get Austen."

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

"Hey, Amber," Andi says as she comes into the living room, "have you seen my keys?"

I shrug, keeping my eyes glued to the television, not wanting to miss something by responding. But then Andi does the unspeakable. She steps in front of the TV.

"Andi, you need to move!" I shout. "I'm trying to find out who the sapphic bachelorette will choose."

"I'm trying to find my keys," she says. "If they're missing, that's a problem, because then someone has our house key, and also we can't drive my car to Cyrus's tonight."

"Did you lose them?" I ask.

"I swear I put them on the island, but they're not there anymore."

"Well, did you check your purse?"

"Yes. Did you move them?"

"I have my own car keys. Why would I touch yours?"

"I don't know, but they were there this morning, and now they're not. If you moved them, that's okay—"

"Andi, I didn't."

"You must've," she argues. "Otherwise that means I was dumb and lost them."

I reach for the remote to pause the TV before standing up with a sigh. I'll have to wait to see who gets the sapphic bachelorettes's violet.

"Okay, relax," I tell her. "I'll help you look."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

My doormat collects dusts as my shoes trample it, but the doorknob remains unmarked. I can't simply bring Deion into my home and expect my parents to have an average response. I need to have some kind of preface before his entrance. That's the only way I can be sure he won't be just met by astonishment.

"Could you wait here for one second," I ask Deion. "I need to, um, make sure the living room isn't a mess."

"I don't really care, but sure," Deion replies with a chuckle.

I smile and turn back to the door to unlock it. I only open it enough for me to slip in and see my parents look over at me from the couch.

"Hey, I'm bringing a friend in," I say.

"That's fine," Dad responds.

"Okay. I just don't want either of you to be alarmed or make a scene."

Mom furrows her brows in confusion. "Um, is your friend a drug dealer?"

I plaster on a grin, although I'm not sure if who I actually have is much better in their opinion. I open the door and wave for Deion to step in.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Driscoll," Deion says with a polite nod.

"Hello," Mom responds. "What's your name?"

"Deion."

Their jaws both drop in an instant, and I feel my stress levels overflow as I panic to get Deion away from them before we witness the rest of their reaction. I don't think they'd be rude, but I don't think Deion would feel especially welcome by anything they have to say to him.

"Let's go to the basement," I say, ushering Deion toward the stairs, and I hurry us down to the basement.


	83. S2 E15.2: Uncharmed

**Walker's POV**

I hold Austen in my arms as she looks around in awe at the bins stacked in the room. When TJ lifts another box's lid, his face looks hopeful.

"I think it's this one— Nope."

He drops the lid closed again.

"This is why I wanted to colour code and label the boxes," Cyrus says to his husband.

TJ moves on to the next box, and finally, the colourful batch of toys is revealed. At the sight, Austen's eyes go wide.

"Here they are," TJ says.

When TJ picks up a little giraffe-patterned baby teether with giraffe a head on one end of the hoop, Austen starts reaching out, saying, "Aaaaaahhhhh!"

As soon as TJ brings it over to her, my daughter grabs it and shoves it in her mouth to chew on the ring. Then she looks at me.

"I think she likes it," Jonah says with a smile.

"I hope this was washed," is all I say.

"Well, it's around ten years old," Cyrus replies, "so, um, hopefully."

Austen's big, brown eyes flutter as they blink, but they stay on me while she gums the toy.

"Wuh wuh," she babbles through her blocked mouth. Then she makes a wide, closed grin as she hums, "Mmmmm."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

After pressing play on the movie, I return to the couch to sit down on the opposite end from Deion. We both lean back on the pillows, and I look between him and the TV, curious about how he'll like it.

"Why is it in black and white?"

"It's from the forties," I explain.

"So colour wasn't invented yet?"

I look at him in concern, trying to plan out how to respond in a non-condescending manner, but he starts laughing before I can.

"I'm joking," he says.

"Good, because I didn't know how to correct you."

I chuckle a little and look to the television again, but watching the film with another person around is proving to be harder than I expected, because I keep looking back at Deion.

"I see you're the type of person who wears their cap at all times," I comment.

Deion flicks his eyes up at his baseball cap with a Verizon logo on the front.

"I forgot I was wearing it," he says.

"You're with Verizon?" I assume.

"No. I thrifted it."

"I like it."

"Thanks," he responds with a smile. "So are we still watching the movie?"

"Yes, of course," I remember, turning toward the television.

I'm having trouble focusing on the screen, but I do my best under the current circumstances. My effort becomes redundant when I feel Deion's hat mount my head. I adjust the cap to fit straight then look over at Deion. He smiles at me before continuing watching the movie. I've never been a ball cap kind of person, but I predict I might be now.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

"I really don't know why you'd put your keys in the basement," Amber says.

She glosses over the shelves carelessly, while I'm here scouring the cupboards of art supplies. Our basement is unfinished, so the floor is concrete, and the walls are bare. There's furniture down here still, which is mostly used when the living room is occupied, and the spare bedroom is in the back, which actually is finished, although dull. The left wall has cabinetry that is stuffed with extra art supplies and tools of mine, and my electric kiln is tucked into an empty corner. The floor, although yes, it's not an actual floor, isn't exactly dull, because it's covered in sculptures of mine that I don't know where else to put. Amber has to swirl around them all to get through the space.

"This place is kinda a tripping hazard," Amber mutters.

I peek down a vase and see nothing.

"They're not upstairs," I say, "so they must be down here."

"Did you throw them out by accident?"

She lifts up a couch cushion and checks beneath it, finding nothing.

"I don't think so," I say, going over to her. "Great. What if I threw them out? How do I even get a new car key?"

"Don't we have a spare?" Amber asks.

"Yeah, we did."

"Did?"

"I used it in a sculpture," I confess.

"Which one?"

"Not one we still have."

"You need to stop keeping important things in your studio," Amber states.

"Don' you think I know that!" I yell, too stressed to calm down.

"Andi," Amber says, placing her hands on my shoudlers, "this is okay. You're gonna survive. You don't even use the car for anything other than coffee runs."

"I do that for you too," I tell her.

"And I love you for that."

"You married me for the coffee runs?"

Rather than deny that, she just kisses me, and instantaneously, my anxiousness melts away like butter in the sun. When her lips lose mine, it feels like stopping a song mid-chorus.

"Should I take that as a yes?" I ask.

"No," she answers. "I married you, because I love you."

Like coming back down from orbit, her lips return to mine, giving me another portion of the song, morphing into more than just a melody, but a harmony and beat as well. When we split again, the song still isn't complete, and I need to hear the rest.

"Hazel's not home," I remind Amber.

"Are you suggesting something?" she says with a grin.

She knows I am, and she kisses me again, this time not letting the music cut out.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Oceana knows about a bunch of sustainable clothing brands and local businesses. She's the one of us who knew about this local fashion market in Shadyside's downtown. A bunch of vendors have tables and racks of clothing, jewelry, and beauty products set up while people buzz around, browsing. I'm kind of surprised that Oceana doesn't know about all of the sellers here. For some reason I just figured she would. She talks like she knows them all. Of course, if I asked her about that, I doubt her response would be at all useful. She'd just be humble and cause me to feel bad about accusing her of being otherwise. But she's really sweet. She is. I mean, look at her. She lights up in a smile at every person she passes, apologizing when other people bump into her. That's just Oceana.

"Oh my goodness!" she gasps. "I love this dress."

She pulls a white midi dress with puff sleeves from the rack and holds it up. I only need a second to picture her in it, and yeah, she'd look amazing. But she always does. She really always does.

"Yeah, that'd be beautiful," I say.

Oceana hangs it back up, saying, "I'll consider it."

A few steps farther, and I find a necklace that catches my eye. I pick it up off the table and let the chain dangle from my fingers.

"I love this," I say.

"It's pretty," Oceana responds, "but I'd avoid gold for you. Silver is better."

I examine the gold chain again and let out a breath. "Yeah, totally."

My hand lays it back down on the table, and I make myself move on. She's right anyway. It would've looked bad on me. I don't always look amazing, at least not to her.

"You know," I say as we carry on to the next clothing rack, "I was thinking maybe I'd try taking physics next year. You know, I just want to be able to know what you talk about with all your Synchrotron club stuff."

Oceana smiles, but it's so obviously not real. "Oh, that's nice."

"Okay, what's up?" I question.

"Well, I know you," she replies, "and I think you'd be kinda confused."

"So I'll study harder—or at all."

She hesitates a moment before shaking her head with a pity smile. "Maybe don't. I don't want you to be disappointed."

That feels like a slice to bare hands, but I'm not really surprised. I had my palms out. I was just waiting for the time when enough blood spills for me to finally pull them back, to finally find my common sense.

"You don't think I'm smart enough," I say.

"Jayda, you're wonderful," Oceana assures me, reaching for my hand, but it stays dead as she laces hers into it. "But you're not..."

"As good as you?" I finish for her.

"I wouldn't say that."

"You already have said that."

"Jayda, we're not the same. And that's okay. I don't mind."

I pull my hand out of hers, my emotions starting to leak like a heating kettle.

"I shouldn't be something you have to decide to mind or not," I snap.

She's taken aback by my outburst, asking, "Are you mad at me?"

My head drops as I respond, "I don't know."

I don't know what I'm feeling about her, but I do know one thing: my bracelet is one charm too heavy, and I really need to make it lighter. It's hardly a decision. It's more like an instinct. I unclip the silver crown and drop it into Oceana's hand.

"Maybe it's better if you keep this," I mutter.

Oceana looks down at it, then back up at me. "What's happening right now?"

I take a step back as I respond, "You're smart. You can figure it out."

The second I turn around, I feel like I've just broken through a stone wall that's been holding me in. But that doesn't mean I'm happy. I'm relieved, yes, lighter, freer, but not happy. I manage to keep myself in tact until I get around a corner of the street. There, I shatter into tears.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

I check the last drawer in the kitchen for the third time before shutting it and finally accepting the truth: my keys are gone.

"Well, we've searched everywhere," I say, spinning around to face Amber who stands on the other side of the island.

"And more," she adds.

"Maybe we should reconsider that ghost theory," I suggest.

Suddenly, the front door opens, and our daughter comes entering in, saying, "Hey."

"Hey, how was The Spoon?" I ask her, still feeling defeated.

"We stayed until we got kicked out by management," Hazel replies. "Oh, and I also took your keys by accident. Sorry."

She tosses them onto the island before heading off the her room, and I stare down at them. I never even thought to ask Hazel. I could've save a lot of time.

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

Deion puts his shoes on while I wait at the door. He takes his time. I don't like dawdlers, so this would normally irritate me vastly, but I can stand it right now.

"It was a good movie," he says as he brings his focus up to me again.

"Even though black and white?" I challenge.

"Definitely."

He smiles and twists the doorknob, opening the door to step outside. I wait on the edge of the doorframe while he pauses on the porch.

"Tell your parents I appreciate them letting me into your house," he adds.

"Well, now that you've been here once, I believe you're consequently allowed back whenever you find you'd like to watch another old film, or to do anything else. I'm flexible."

Deion smiles, replying, "I'll take you up on that offer soon. Until then, see ya."

He starts to leave, but before he can make it to the stairs, I realize something.

"Oh, do you want your hat back?"

Deion glances back at me, answering, "Nah. It's yours."

We both share a smile for a moment before he breaks his eyes from mine and continues down the path. Right before taking the left to go down the block, he looks back at me once more, and then he's gone.

The instant I close the door, my parents come out from the kitchen, and my smile drops as I prepare for the upcoming debate.

"So your friend is your school bully?" Mom says.

"Former school bully," I correct her.

"But he still picked on your for months, right?" Dad says.

"Although that is factually correct, I would like to remind you that people's morality is fluid, and based on the evidence, his appears to have flipped over completely."

"What evidence?" Mom questions.

"He treats me in a cordial manner now," I state.

"Well, it seemed like you two were having fun," Dad accepts.

"He bullied my baby," Mom argues back. "He's not allowed to have fun in my house."

"Buffy," Dad replies.

"Yes," I tag on. "Buffy."

"You're not allowed to say Buffy," Mom tells me.

"'Mom' just sounds so bland," I respond.

"If he ever hurts you again, he's banned from here," Mom says, crossing her arms.

My dad gives her a smile, but she just looks annoyed. However, I don't need her to be happy. I just needed her approval, and I got it.

"I am pleased with this outcome," I say then begin toward the upstairs.


	84. S2 E15.3: Uncharmed

**Amber's POV**

I let myself into my brother's house and raise the bottle in my hand.

"I brought wine!" I announce.

Jonah and Walker are already talking with Cyrus and TJ in the kitchen as I, my wife, and my daughter come over to join them. Wyatt is playing with his hand-held gaming system at the dining room table, while the youngest of the group, Austen, bites on a bubbly, blue teething ring with Jonah holding her up. My friends all greet me and my family with hellos as I set the wine bottle down on the island. As soon as I do, Austen starts reaching for it with one hand, and Jonah has to take a step away to keep her from getting it.

"You're a bit young for that," Jonah says to her.

"Ababa," she responds before exploding in giggles.

"I've got glasses," TJ says.

He gets a few wine glasses down from the cupboard.

"I'll grab a cork puller," Walker says.

Before he can even step away, I take my keys and stab one into the cork, twist it, then yank the cork out with a pop, and Walker stares at me, stunned. Clearly, he didn't know I had this skill.

**Buffy's POV**

When my whole family comes in, we're greeted with a bunch of smiles and some baby talk from Austen. Brayden and Cara go over to the dining room where Wyatt is, and Andreas, after looking around a bit, stands over by Hazel. Amber pours a glass of red wine immediately and holds it out for me.

"Uh, no, thank you," I respond.

While Cyrus and TJ don't think anything of that, Amber and Andi give me confused looks.

"Really?" Andi checks. "You never turn it down. Are you pregnant?" she jokes.

She laughs. It was a joke. But my brain didn't register that until after my eyes already went wide, and that split second reaction is enough for Andi to catch on.

"Oh my gosh," she responds. "You're pregnant!"

"Buffy!" Cyrus shouts in excitement.

"That's awesome!" Jonah says. "You're gonna make a little friend for Austen."

"Pawawaba," Austen agrees.

"Thanks, guys," I say. "What's good is that I already have a babysitter ready to go."

"I know you're looking at me," Andreas chimes in, "but you might want to reconsider that."

"Yeah," Brayden says from the dining room. "Andreas almost dropped Austen before."

That sends scared looks through Jonah and Walker.

"I said almost," Brayden states.

**Jayda's POV**

Entering my house is like crossing into an alternate universe. Like, everyone here is so happy, but I feel like shit. I definitely don't regret what I just did, but it's kind of like running through a flaming doorway to get out of a burning building. Like, yeah, I'm glad I left, but it still hurt like hell, and I should probably go to a hospital or something, but that part isn't applicable to this metaphor. On my way to the kitchen, I focus on holding my tears in and not letting anything flow out. This is not the time for a breakdown.

"Hey," I say, but my voice wavers.

"How was your day?" Daddy asks me.

"Great," I lie.

"We were just talking about Buffy and Marty's big news," Auntie Amber says.

"We're having a baby," Buffy says with a smile.

I want to smile. I really do, because, like, that would just make sense. But I'm physically incapable of that right now.

"Oh, wow. That's totally amazing," I say, trying to sound excited. "I'm so happy for you two."

"Thank you," Marty replies.

"Too bad we already got rid of all the baby stuff after Cara grew older," Buffy comments.

"Well, we've got a whole box of toys downstairs," Papa says, "so you can take what you want."

I'm glad they're not talking to me anymore. It's a lot easier to not cry when I don't have to think about talking. But even though the conversation is off me, one person's eyes stay here. Andreas. He looks at me, and I know he knows I'm not okay. I don't know how he does it, but he knows how to make my shield peel and flake away in mere seconds. I turn my eyes downward, trying not to let him see my emotions, but he can read me in the dark.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

She had beads in her hair, mixed in with her crinkled waves like flowers on water. We were smiling, my arms around her waist, pulling her close against me. God, I feel so stupid. In this image, her touch felt warm and welcoming. Really, I was just wading in hot water, and soon it was going to become too high to handle. I probably should've gotten out sooner, but how could I have known? It's not like she was outwardly rude. It was all those little things, the ones that could be brushed off once, but after brushing off enough, you end up with a pile on the floor that's too big to ignore. After looking at the photo for one more second, I hit the delete button, and Oceana's face vanishes from my phone screen.

Knocking sounds, and I startle, throwing my eyes to the door as Daddy peaks in.

"Hi," he says in a voice delicate as a snowflake. "It's almost midnight."

"Yeah, sorry," I say. "I'll get to bed soon."

He nods, but that's not enough to get him to leave. "You seem less joyful than usual. Is something going on?"

Although I don't like to listen to my dads, I'm not the kind of teenager who feels the need to hide every single part of her life from them, mainly because they're pretty cool. Like, they're terribly embarrassing, but they don't freak out over minor stuff. So telling my daddy what happened now isn't that hard.

"Yeah, um...Oceana and I broke up."

"Oh, Jayda, I'm sorry," he responds in sympathy. "Breakups can be really hard."

"Have you ever even been through a breakup?" I question. "I mean other than the one with Iris, because that hardly counts."

"There was one day when Buffy, Andi, and Jonah dared your dad and I that if we broke up, we wouldn't last a week, so we tried to prove that we had willpower."

"How long did you last?"

"Just the one day," Daddy admits disappointedly.

"Yeah, this isn't like that," I mutter. "I think I'm just gonna go to sleep."

My dad nods and starts to close the door again, but before he leaves, he says, "If you ever want to talk—"

"I know," I cut in quietly. "Thanks, Dad."

He smiles, but then his eyes wander above me, and he says, "Just make sure you close your window before going to sleep."

"Sure."

The moment he shuts the door again, I fall back into my exhaustion without sleepiness, the type of tired where I want everything to fade, but it's impossible to get my body to rest. So I continue with my business, swiping through the photos of me with Oceana, pressing the garbage symbol on all of them. After a string of ten or so pictures, I'm halted by an image of me and Andreas. It makes me pause as I take in the details. His curly hair blown by the wind. My own hair striping me face in uncontrollable strands. Our mid-laugh faces. The top of his thumb covering the lens. The park trees behind us.

A rattle from the tree outside my window makes me gasp, but the boy there holds up his hand before I can scream.

"Yo, chill," Andreas says. "It's just me."

"What are you doing here?"

"You didn't think I'd let you be all mopey at dinner and then not follow up, did you?"

Yeah, I guess that wouldn't be very in character for him. After climbing through the window, he tosses his shoes on the carpet and crowds in next to me on the bed. I come out from under the covers then scoot over to make more space for him, and he shifts again, getting comfortable a couple inches away from touching me. I feel a little weird being in pyjama shorts and a baggy shirt while he's fully done up in jeans and a T-shirt that probably costed an insane amount of money, hence why he only has, like, twelve shirts that he cycles through. Andreas, however, doesn't seem to mind my unkempt appearance.

"So..." he says.

"So..."

"La...ti..."

Somehow, that makes me smile, and I say, "Stop it. I'm trying to be sad."

"Well, I'm selfish, and I don't like it when you're sad."

He looks at me, one of his dark curls falling over his eye, but I don't move, although I do want to. But I don't know in what way. I drop my eyes down away from his for a moment before coming back up, ready to talk.

"I broke up with Oceana."

He just nods and responds with a light, "Hm."

"Yeah," I breathe. "Hm."

We sit in our pocket of quiet for a few seconds longer until my thoughts start banging too strong, and I need to let one out.

"Can you be honest for a sec?" I ask. "Did I ruin my chances of finding a decent person?"

I know I didn't feel that good when I was with Oceana. But she was good. I know that. It's a blatant fact. She was smart and kind and incredible, and anyone would support that statement. She's the best person I've ever dated. Honestly, it scares me that she wasn't enough. Maybe my standards are too high. But Andreas doesn't tell me that. He has a different answer.

"Anyone who makes you feel like you're not good enough for them isn't someone I want you to be with. I know you don't believe it, but you deserve so much more than you think. You deserve someone who is going to treat you like a queen."

It feels strange to hear that. I don't really know what to do with it, how to take it in. Part of me wants to deflect it back with a compliment for him, but his voice causes me to trust it, to let the phrase hang there in the air, to not try to blow it away to avoid discomfort. I am uncomfortable, but not in a bad way.

"Why are you always rescuing me from my feelings?" I wonder after a moment.

"Because you're really good at ending up in bad situations," Andreas replies with a laugh.

"Yeah, I am good at that."

"I am too. You're not alone."

He sends me a smile, and I hold on to it, liking the soft curve and warm brown eyes that look black in the weak glow of my bedside lamp.

"I also have something for you," Andreas suddenly says. "Wait here."

He doesn't bother to get his shoes before departing through my window again. I'm left alone again with myself, but a light under my bed sheet gets my attention, and I lift it up to find Andreas's phone laying there unlocked. It must have fallen out of his pocket. At first, I'm not planning to look. It's his phone, and that would be a total violation of his privacy, but the glimpse of my name on one of the messages makes it practically impossible to just stop reading. It's a conversation with Hazel. I only get to see two messages, but those are all it takes to make my body go still in shock and my heart start galloping.

 **Hazel:** So what are you going to do about your crush on Jayda?

 **Andreas:** Nothing. I'm not going to get in the way of her and Oceana.

_Andreas... He... He can't actually..._

The rustle of leaves alerts me, and I quickly lock Andreas's phone before retreating back to my side of the bed. The boy settles down on the mattress with a smile, and I watch him, curious about what he went to get. Then he opens his hand and reveals a tiny, plastic diamond the size of my pinky nail. He opens my hand with his and places the gem in my palm, sending chills up my veins.

"What is this?" I ask him.

"I don't know where it came from," he explains, "but it was in my car, and it reminds me of you, so I thought you should have it."

"A diamond reminds you of me?"

"Yeah. Because you're unbreakable."

"I don't feel that way," I utter.

"Trust me," he insists. "You are."

The way our eyes lock together is like second-nature. I've never questioned it, but now, now I do. Now I want to know why I'm always drawn to him. He's amazing, and I know that. I always have. But I've never even thought of the possibility that we could be a thing. And I'm thinking of it now. But I don't know what I'm thinking. And maybe I'm kinda scared to find out, because if I do...then this changes everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the season 2 finale! I hope you all liked it. Season 3 premieres on August 3. Thank you guys so much for reading. Anyone who has made fan art and hasn't sent it to me, please send it to me, because that's so cool and incredible, and I'm still amazed that some of you care enough about this story to do that. Have a good week, and I'll see you soon. :)


	85. S3 E1.1: Read Into It

**Buffy's POV**

After expelling the last of my insides into the toilet, I come back out to my bedroom, feeling like I've just been on a see-saw for two weeks straight. While I climb back into bed, the door floats open, and my husband glides in.

"How's the morning sickness?" Marty asks.

"I woke up twice to throw up during the night."

"Yeah, I heard. You don't have work today, right?"

I shake my head, "Thankfully, it's my day off. I feel horrible."

"Stay in bed," Marty tells me. "I'm gonna get you breakfast."

"Thank you," I say with a smile. Right when he's about to leave, I speak again. "Marty, can you make—?"

"Pancakes are frying," he answers before I finish my question.

"Thanks. But haven't you been upstairs for, like, ten minutes?"

He glances behind him then corrects his previous statement. "Pancakes are burning."

I can't help but smile and laugh as he leaves to take care of the food. I'm still feeling kinda gross, but it's getting better, accelerating quicker when Cara peeks into the room with her curly hair tied up with a piece of Christmas ribbon meant for wrapping presents.

"Mom, are you done throwing up?"

"Yeah, for now," I reply.

Cara enters the rest of the way in, uncovering a plate with a piece of bread and jam on it. Grinning wide, she brings it over to the bed and climbs up beside me.

"What's this?" I ask.

"I made you toast for breakfast," she explains, handing me the plate, "but I couldn't find the toaster."

The effort is what counts, and her effort is very sweet, so I respond with, "Thank you. I love it."

"Whenever I'm sick, you always take care of me," she says, "but your mom is slacking off—"

"She's in Palm Springs on a trip."

"Sounds like excuses. So I'm gonna be your mom."

"That's not quite how it works," I say with a laugh.

"Well, how does it work?" she ruptures. "Because no one will tell me, and I know it's not brain waves! A boy in my class told me something, but it's gross, and I don't believe it."

"Well, um..."

This wasn't exactly the time I expected to have this talk, especially not while my stomach is doing somersaults inside me, wringing itself inside out. My saving grace comes in a couple second when Marty enters with a glass of orange juice.

"Marty, great timing," I say.

Cara is immediately distracted by her dad, and she frowns at the cup in his hand.

"I knew I forgot something," she mumbles.

"Pancakes will be another while," Marty tells me. "I had to restart."

"That's okay," I respond.

"Mom," Cara interrupts, "what story do you want?"

"A story?"

"Yeah. You used to read me stories when I was little and sick, so I'm gonna read one to you, except I won't make you sound out words yourself."

"Oh, thanks."

Cara jumps down off the bed and gives me a bow, saying, "It's my pleasure, ma'am."

Then she scurries out of the room, past Marty, and my husband and I share a smile.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

"Why is the line so long?" Jonah complains. "Doesn't everyone call their phone companies nowadays?"

"The Millennials do, but Gen Z is afraid of making phone calls," Amber states.

All of my friends and I share a family phone plan together, including our kids, and none of us wanted to come alone to solve our problem with our plan, so here I am with Cyrus, Amber, Andi, Jonah, and Walker at the mall, lined up outside the tiny corner shop that is the Tell location, a telecommunications company. Initially, we tried rock paper scissors, but playing with six people proved pointless, since we always chose paper: every single one of us every time. We played five times before we gave up and just all came. Buffy and Marty got out of it, because we collectively agreed not to tell them about the problem with our phone plan, since, in Cyrus's words, "pregnant Buffy is scary." Austen is also tagging along with us. She keeps herself entertained by pulling at Walker's coily hair while we wait in line.

"There are, like, fifteen people ahead of us," Andi says. "This is going to take forever."

"Do we really care if our bill was too high?" Jonah asks.

"Too high by a couple hundred dollars," I remind him.

"We're positive it was a mistake?" Walker checks. "Jayda's pretty much always on her phone. I wouldn't be surprised if she broke our data limit."

"Jayda has her phone set to automatically connect to every free wifi within a five hundred mile radius of here," I say. "She's good at keeping her data down."

"This is annoying," Amber huffs. "Can't people just do their job right so that we don't overpay?"

"I'm sure they're doing their best," Cyrus says.

"If two hundred dollars too high is their best, I'm scared to know their worst," Walker says.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Cara returns to my room empty-handed and remounts the bed.

"I forgot I don't have any books left," she explains.

That just confuses me. "What happened to them all?"

"Me and Wyatt used them to make ultimate paper airplanes."

I furrow my brows. "Did it...?"

"They were too heavy," she says sadly. "Now they're being repurposed into ultimate skateboards instead."

I don't see how that can possibly be safe, but as long as she wears a helmet and stays away from bushes, hopefully she won't end up like Cyrus the first time he tried to skateboard.

"So I'm going to make up a story," Cara says. She wiggles closer to me on the bed and leans back on the pillows as she takes in a breath to begin. "This story is about a spy named...um...Chrissy. She...or he...or..." She stops to look up at me. "Does it have to be either a she or a he?"

I'm surprised by the question, probably because this is such simple knowledge to me, but to an eight year-old kid, I guess she might not know this. I had just assumed she would.

"No, it can be a they, or a ze or anything else," I answer.

"Can real people do that?" she wonders.

"Yes, there are lots of real people who aren't a he or a she."

"That's cool," Cara responds. She ponders over that for a minute before continuing with her story. "Chrissy is a spy, and they got a mission, but they fell in love with a beautiful prince."

I smile while she speaks, but after a little bit, I have to cut in, saying, "Hold that thought. I need to throw up again," and then I hurry toward the washroom.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

What a wonderful greeting by Jayda who answers the door to her house: "Oh, it's you."

"Thank you. My self-esteem is boosted," I respond as I step inside, holding in my hand the pale green top that I borrowed from her last week.

"I know you're being sarcastic, but I lowkey don't care."

"Yikes. Maybe I'll just keep your top."

Jayda snatches the shirt from my hand and tosses it upstairs, over the railing. Her throw is pretty impressive, but Jayda doesn't give it a second thought. She just carries on into the kitchen where she opens the fridge.

"What's with you?" I question.

"Nothing," she replies, but then she grabs the container of orange juice and starts chugging it right from the jug, and I recognize this as a symptom that it's not nothing.

"Right," I drag out dryly.

Jayda thumps the juice down on the island and leans her elbows on it as she says, "Okay, Hazel, um, you know people, right?"

"I have a theoretical understanding of them," I respond.

"Okay, uh, here's the thing. Um..." Her words fall away into nothing.

"Woah, slow down," I tease. "That's a lot to take in."

She shoots me a glare before continuing, "Before Andreas left for summer camp, something kinda happened. Remember the day I broke up with Oceana?"

I narrow my eyes curiously. "Yeah."

"Um, well, Andreas came over to help me feel better. And he left for a minute, and I noticed his phone was unlocked, and it was on a message from you, and, well, you'd said that he had a crush on me."

My eyes go wide in humiliation. I can't believe she read that. She was not supposed to read that. Andreas is going to be furious. _I'm dead. This is how I'll go._

"Jayda," I say, shaking my head frantically, "you weren't meant to see that."

"Um, yeah, I figured," she mumbles.

"Can you just pretend you never knew?" I beg. "Please? He's gonna kill me if he knows you know."

"But that's not it," Jayda replies sharply.

I pause, waiting for the rest. I don't understand. What else is bothering her if it's not that?

"When I read that," she goes on, "I wasn't totally weirded out by it."

It takes me a minute to process that, but when I do, my jaw drops open as I gasp.

"Holy shit. You like him too?"

"I don't know," she snaps, getting flustered.

"How do you not know?"

"Feelings are complicated!"

"Well, what do you want?" I question. "Do you want to be his girlfriend?"

"I have no idea," she sighs.

I nod. "I see."

From the drawer at the end of the kitchen cabinets, I pull out a notepad and a pen then bring them around the island, placing them down on the counter in front of the stool I take a seat on.

"What are you doing?" Jayda asks.

"Helping you get an idea."


	86. S3 E1.2: Read Into It

**Amber's POV**

"Okay, we're next in line," I say. "Who's gonna do the talking?"

As soon as I turn to look at all my friends, they're looking right back at me. Then the employee finishes with the person ahead, and it's our turn to go up.

"Wow. Thanks, guys," I mumble. I step up to the counter and begin talking in a controlled yet kind way. "Hi, so we have a family plan, and our bill ended up extremely high last month. Higher than it should've been."

"Look, ma'am," the young adult with a full beard and backwards hat says, "I get it. None of us like to admit we go on the internet that much, but the facts remain the facts. One of you guys probably takes the bus every day and reads fanfiction for overrated drama shows, and if you didn't download the story first, that really kills your wallet. Unfortunately, I can't change that. All I can do is recommend that you change your lifestyle."

"Um, no," I shut him down. "It was a mistake by your company, and we want our money back."

"Dudette," he drones, "I swear on my grandma's reincarnated eagle body that we did not get it wrong."

"Show me the proof."

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

I finish scribbling the table onto the notepad, creating a column for likes and one for dislikes. Jayda just watches me write, not saying a thing until I look up at her.

"Let's start with what you dislike about him," I say.

"This is kinda extra," she criticizes.

"Because your idea was better?"

"I didn't have an idea."

I smile. "So we're on the same page. What do you dislike about Andreas?"

Jayda takes a moment to think before answering, and I get my pen ready on the paper.

"Um, well, he wears way too much cologne."

I draw a bullet point and write that first response down, but then Jayda keeps talking.

"I always tell him that," she says with a shake of her head, "and then he gives me this stupid smile and insists I like it."

By the end of her sentence, she's smiling wide to herself. I bring my pen back to the dislike section and cross the first point off the list.

"He likes to make fun of me sometimes," Jayda says next.

Okay, this one is definitely a dislike. I write it down.

"Which is totally annoying," Jayda states, "because I'm perfect, and I get mad at him, but I can never stay mad, because he always says something insanely adorable after, and it's so annoying."

Her grin is back, so I scribble that one out too.

"Okay," I sigh. "Things you like?"

This can't be hard. She's already accidentally said two things she liked about him when she was trying to say what she didn't like.

"Um, I don't know," she responds.

"You seem to know," I counter.

"I guess he's kinda nice, and sweet. And he pretends to be all cool and stuff, but he's such a dork, but in, like, a cute way. And he always looks at me all weird, like I'm the only thing in the room." She rolls her eyes and lets out a breath as she smiles then looks down at her twiddling thumbs. "And he kinda always knows what to say. Like, he literally always makes me feel better, and then he acts like he doesn't care about anything, but he does." Although it's clear she's trying to repress it, she can't control her smile. "God, he's such a dork."

I finish copying out her notes and snap the lid onto the pen.

"I have my conclusion," I say.

"What is it?"

"You're in love."

It's a plain fact, but for some reason, she still fights it.

"Love? Definitely not!"

"Fine," I huff. "You're in like."

"I don't know."

"Jayda, you were smiling while saying literally everything you said about him."

She listens to that and pauses a second then says, "I still don't know."

"Fine."

I get up and start walking down the hall toward the front door, and Jayda's worry heightens in her voice.

"Where are you going?"

"To your car," I answer. "Andreas should be getting home soon. We're going to see him."

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

I wouldn't have believed it, but there's a frickin chart. All the lines are normal except for one that makes the scale skyrocket.

"I'm sorry," I say to the employee.

"All good," he says. "I get paid by the hour, not the customer."

He turns his computer monitor back to face himself, and I walk away from the counter in defeat. My friends all wait for my explanation, but when I get to the group, I know they aren't going to be pleased.

"Okay," I breathe. "So they didn't overcharge us."

"What?" TJ reacts. "How is that possible?"

"One of us just uses data like air," I state.

"Who?" Andi questions.

I flick my eyes to Jonah, and everyone spins to look at him, even Austen, but Jonah just looks flabbergasted.

"Me?" he says. "But I'm hardly on my phone."

"Well, he showed me a chart, and unfortunately charts don't lie. You used about twenty times as much data as any of us."

"I don't get it," Jonah says.

"It's okay," Walker tells him. "You probably just forgot to turn your wifi on."

Jonah still looks confused, but nobody else questions it, because it really isn't that surprising.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

"Then Chrissy and Lee fell in love, and they never had to go to school again."

Everything in her story made sense—well, as much sense as Cara ever makes—until this ending. It came out of nowhere, and I can't figure out why, because Cara's never been bluntly opposed to school before. I always thought she liked it.

"So they won't learn?" I ask.

Cara shakes her head and sinks deeper back into the pillows of my bed. "Learning doesn't happen at school. School is stupid."

Okay, I know the American school system is very flawed, but I believe that because the way students are taught is old-fashioned, and important parts of history are missing from the curriculum. But I don't think that's why Cara doesn't like it.

"Why is that?" I question.

"I have to write lots of stuff, and I have to do math," she grumbles.

"Yeah, it's hard work, but you're learning important things," I tell her as I reach up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, "especially this year in third grade."

"When I was in kindergarten, I thought the grade threes were huge," she mutters. "I don't feel huge."

"That's okay, because you don't have to be. You just have to be yourself."

"People don't like people's self."

Any parent will say that the hardest part of having kids is not being able to help them when they need it. I wish I knew what to respond, but I'm just in bewilderment. Of all the kids, Cara has been the most confident in herself since forever, but this, what she's saying now, isn't confident. It's painful.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Everyone's the same. Except me. I'm not the same."

At that, I curl my arm around her and pull her closer to me. She lets her head fall on my chest while she stares out at nothing drearily. This is one thing I like about her still being as young as she is. My sons don't want hugs from their mom anymore, but Cara hasn't grown past that yet. It's strange to think that soon she will.

"You know, that's a good thing," I say, "because being different is what makes you interesting. Nobody wants to talk to someone who's exactly like everyone else they've talked to."

In a whisper barely audible, she speaks, "I wish people wouldn't talk to me."

"What?"

I must've heard that wrong. I really hope I heard that wrong.

"Nothing," she says.

"Cara."

"Mom, can I be anything I want?"

The question catches me off guard, and I don't really see what it has to do with anything else we were discussing, but I answer it nonetheless.

"Sure, you can. If you work hard, you can do whatever you dream."

"But can I _be_ what I want?"

"Well, what do you want to be?"

"I'm not sure yet," she replies.

"Well, when you are sure, I know you can be it."

She smiles and snuggles a little further up to me.

"Are you ready for another story?" she asks.

"Sure," I respond.

She takes a second to come up with her introduction before beginning, "There once was a kid named Zoey."


	87. S3 E1.3: Read Into It

**Andi's POV**

The seven of us sit at a table in the food court, finishing the last bites and sips of our fries and sodapops, but while we've all moved on, Jonah is still thinking about his mistake.

"I don't get how I used so much data," he says.

TJ bites a fry and replies, "It's not the end of the world."

"But I'm not even on my phone most of the time," he says. "I give it to Austen to play with."

That turns our attention to the baby in the high chair fiddling with Jonah's cell phone and putting it in her mouth.

"You give a baby a phone?" Cyrus says.

"She likes to touch it," Jonah says. He holds a second before adding, "And eat it."

Curious, Walker leans over and steals the phone from his daughter's mouth, which makes her cry for a second before Jonah gives her a napkin instead to keep her busy, which she immediately starts waving around.

"I cracked the puzzle," Walker says.

He turns the phone screen to us, showing us the homepage of a website for some blog on how to teach your cat the alphabet. That's not the point. The point is that it's the internet. Austen's been accidentally surfing the web whenever Jonah gives her his phone.

All at once, we have the epiphany, sounding, "Ohhhhhhh."

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Hazel and I walk side by side up the path to Andreas's house, and surprisingly, I feel nothing. Not scared or excited. I'm just normal. After spending the summer without him, I think seeing Andreas again was made into a much bigger deal in my head than it actually is. Honestly, I probably convinced myself I have feelings for him when I really don't, just because I've had no way to disprove it. This isn't anything special. I'm just seeing a friend again. 

"I'm starting to think maybe I thought too much into this," I say.

"How so?" Hazel asks.

"Well, I'm not, like, awkward or nervous, and if I liked him, wouldn't I be awkward and nervous?"

"I would like to point out to you that you have the tendency to procrastinate things until they become a problem, at which point you then get really worked up all at once."

"I'm seeing my friend, not taking a test," I state. "This is totally different."

Sarcastically, she echoes, "Totally."

We ascend the steps, and I press the doorbell. _See, nothing. I'm totally fine. The door is opening, and I'm—_

 _Shit. I like him._ It's his stupid, brown eyes and his crooked smile, and the way he looks at me first before anything else. And now my body is getting all spirally, my heart is way too loud, and not a single word makes it out of my mouth. Like, am I about to have a stroke?

"Hey," Andreas says. "I just got back an hour ago."

I want to respond, but literally nothing is working. It's some chemical reaction of the shock and nerves that results in speechlessness. Hazel nudges me after a second, and it helps get one word out of me, but it doesn't make sense.

"Yeah," I say.

Andreas just furrows his brows at me and smiles a little, unsure what's going on with me, which is valid, because I also have no idea.

"Awkward and nervous," Hazel utters, "check."

"What's wrong with her?" Andreas asks Hazel, gesturing to me.

I try to answer, but all I get is, "Um..."

"Laryngitis," Hazel explains for me. "Can't speak at all."

"Cool, cool," Andreas accepts.

"Uh, cool," I say.

"Incredible!" Hazel blurts. "She's cured!"

I look over at her in confusion. "What?"

"You're not helping yourself," Hazel mumbles.

"How have you been?" Andreas asks.

"Uh, Good. Yeah, um, I just remembered I have a nail appointment to get to," I say through a flustered voice. "But, um, you have a good day."

"Uh, sure," he responds and lets out a laugh. "See ya."

I smile and spin around, latching on to Hazel's arm to pull her with me as I leave for my car.

"Why do I have to leave too?" Hazel whispers.

"Because you need to paint my nails," I hiss.

Once we're both safely sealed in my car and out of sight of Andreas's doorway, I automatically pull down the mirror. Normally, it's to check my makeup, but right now I'm just seeing how red I am. Yeah, I'm blushing pretty bad. Okay. Um...cool. I'm really hoping Andreas just thought I had a sunburn or something.

"So what's your plan of action?" Hazel wonders.

"There is none," I state, slapping the sun visor and mirror back up against my car roof.

Hazel just looks at me with furrowed brows, responding, "Okay, well, can I suggest first you tell him you like him?"

"Uh, no."

"Why not?"

Where do I even start?

"Hazel, it's been a whole summer, and he was away the whole time, so I have no idea whether he even still likes me."

"That's why you find out."

"But it's not that simple."

Hazel is smart, but about this, she's clearly dumb, because she is not getting what a majorly complicated issue this is. She looks at me in confusion.

"Okay, what about saying, 'Hey, Andreas, I like you,' is not simple?" she questions.

"Because if he doesn't like me back, then basically everything is going to go to shit."

It's not an opinion. It's a pure, plain fact.

"He's, like, not our cousin, but, like, he's sort of family, right," I explain.

"You're not worried about incest, right?" Hazel checks. "'Cause you guys aren't related in any way, shape, or form."

"No. I'm worried, because our families are really close. Even if he did like me too, if we do anything, and it doesn't work out, think of how that's going to affect everyone else."

"Okay, I get what you're saying," Hazel replies. "But I still think you're being stupid."

"Well, I can be whatever I want," I snap.

Hazel rolls her eyes and sighs. "Then I'll just have to tell him for you."

"Hazel, if you do that, you're going to die at fifteen."

Like, I wouldn't actually kill her, but I say it like I would, and she takes back her statement.

"Fine. I won't say anything."

"Thank you," I say.

I start the car and jolt away from the curb.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Cara's eyelashes flutter like butterflies landing as she starts to doze off. But she doesn't give up on finishing the story. She keeps going, repeating herself when she accidentally lets herself shut her eyes while lying on me.

"Then the dragon...the dragon..."

"You can stop if you want," I tell her. "I appreciated what I heard of the story."

"No," she says in a tired voice. "I'm gonna tell you all of it."

Her eyes close again, and I rub her shoulder gently as she hushes more with each breath.

"I'm telling you..." Her sentence drifts away. "Never mind."

She finally gives in and lets herself seep into slumber. Just like that, she's my little baby again, coming in to sleep by me after a bad dream. She's my angel who fights until her voice is lost in the day yet is so vulnerable when the night comes.

I place one hand on my stomach, feeling my other little baby inside me. Soon, they will be out here, needing me to hold them and help them fall asleep. But Cara will never stop being my baby too. None of my kids will. I'd lay my life down for any one of them, because they're building my life into something even better every day.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

When I hear the window above my bed lift open, I actually feel kind of relieved. I know a normal person would freak out at the sound of someone entering their room in the dark, but I was kind of waiting for it. It's nice to know I didn't make such a huge fool of myself today that he wouldn't want to do this. I sit up in bed, coming out from under the blankets, and turn on the lamp while Andreas kicks his shoes off then finds his spot beside me. We're closer now. Our shoulders are touching. But I don't move over, and he doesn't either.

"I can't believe I lasted the summer without someone coming in through my window in the middle of the night," I joke.

It's easier to talk now, maybe because there's not the pressure of knowing how I feel. I know how I feel. But now there are just so many more issues tied on to it. Like, we're really close, and doing something might ruin that. Or there's the fact that our families are life-long best friends, and if we messed up, everything would be massively awkward. So is acting on my emotions even worth risking this simplicity we have? Answer: I don't know.

"Well, you left the window unlocked," Andreas responds, "so if it were up to me, I'd guess you wanted me to come in."

I look down, trying not to smile, but that doesn't work.

All of a sudden, my door squeaks open, and Papa is peers in.

"Hey, Andreas," he says. "You do know it's eleven o'clock, right?"

"Yes, I do," Andreas confirms.

"Cool, well, uh, maybe you should go home and sleep?"

"Excellent idea."

When Andreas doesn't move, my dad just shakes his head and closes the door again, not bothering to push it any further.

"How was your nail appointment?" Andreas asks me.

I raise my fingers to show him. "Oh, uh, good."

"They were a little messy on the thumb, huh?" he notices.

I examine the dried pink on my skin, bitterly responding, "Oh, yeah. She wasn't the best at it. And she wouldn't listen either."

"Still looks good," Andreas assures me.

"Thanks. How was your summer?"

"Fun," he replies. "Um, I made lots of friends. Finally learned how to toast a marshmallow without burning it."

I nod and smile, but I know I won't feel settled until I ask a specific question, so I do.

"Any girls?"

"Like girl girls?"

I nod.

"Uh, a couple cute ones, yeah."

"Oh."

I don't know what I was expecting. This is Andreas. Obviously, he met someone he liked.

"Yeah, but no girlfriend."

"Oh."

I haven't even decided if I care about that, but I'm still kind of glad.

"What's oh?" he questions.

"Nothing. Just that, um, I figured you would've liked someone there."

"Nope," he denies.

"So you don't like anyone?"

He pauses a second but then answers, and it's not the answer I was hoping for.

"Nope. Nobody."

"Oh. Um, I mean, that's whatever."

I'm trying to sound like I don't care, but it's hard to do that when I obviously do care.

After a moment of quiet, Andreas finally speaks, "Um, I'm gonna listen to your dad now and head out, but you have a good night."

"Thanks. You too."

He leaves out the window, and I can't help but feel like there's suddenly too much space in this room. But I ignore it. I can't do anything about it anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! The next episode will be on Friday, August 7. Now, since I've started my summer job, I'm unable to update as frequently as before, so there will be about 2 episode per week. I'll always tell you the date in advance. Thank you for reading this one, and have a lovely day.


	88. S3 E2.1: Cy-chologist

**Cyrus's POV**

TJ and I walk through the administration room toward the principal's office at Grant High school. Nothing's really changed since we went here. The blank colourless walls and orange wood furniture are all the same. Even the carpet is still here, just more muted and matted from use.

"I'm surprised we haven't been here before since Jayda came here," I comment.

"They asked me to come in about her grades once," TJ explains, "but I didn't see the point. They weren't getting any better."

Before we can step into the office, Amber and Andi suddenly come up behind us, and I become even more confused about the situation. If they're here, that means Hazel must be involved too. I can imagine Jayda causing a disruption that would land her here, but I can't envision Hazel doing that.

"What are you here for?" TJ questions.

"I don't know," Amber replies. "This is weird. We don't even come to parent-teacher interviews."

When we all step around a corner, both our daughters are sitting next to each other outside the principal's office.

"Finally," Jayda groans, looking up at TJ and me. "Get me out of here."

"Jayda, what did you do?" I ask.

"Nothing you wouldn't have— Actually, you wouldn't have done this. Nothing Auntie Amber wouldn't have done."

"She got aggressive with another student," Principal Schroo states, coming out of his office, to which Jayda rolls her eyes.

The principal has a lilac-coloured shirt and a fluffy moustache, like some kind of fantasy candy man.

"What about Hazel?" Andi wonders.

"Why don't you two take a seat in my office," Mr. Schroo suggests.

The four of us follow him inside, and he closes the door to keep both our daughters from hearing the conversation about to take place. It takes him another few seconds to get comfortable in his seat before he begins explaining.

"Your daughter," Mr. Schroo says, pointing to Andi and Amber, "was the focus of the incident. A girl, whom we've already dealt with, made a comment to Hazel that resulted in Jayda pouring her drink on the girl's head."

"Oh, that's totally something I would do," Amber realizes.

"What was the comment?" Andi questions.

"I don't know it word for word," Mr. Schroo answers. "It seems like it was a simple mistake regarding her gender."

"With all due respect," I cut in, "I don't believe that my daughter would waste her drink over a mistake."

The principal looks taken aback, responding, "Surely, you don't condone this behaviour."

TJ starts, "Well—"

"No, of course not," I block him off. "But would you let us talk to her? I'm sure there must be more as to the logic behind her actions."

"She's yours," Mr. Schroo says. "However, her week of detention still stands."

"I understand," I respond with a nod.

I get up with TJ and go for the door. As we exit the office, TJ is looking at his phone, and I eye it curiously.

"Hey, the station just called," TJ tells me. "I think I have to go in."

This happens on occasion where TJ needs to take a last minute shift. Although it's a little inconvenient, I'm sure the people nearly dying from fires right now are at an even bigger inconvenience, so I understand it.

"Oh, sure," I say. "No problem."

But Jayda doesn't look as okay with his departure.

"You're leaving me with the emotional one?" Jayda whines to her dad.

TJ shrugs, saying, "Sorry."

He gives us a wave before stepping out, and I look back to the two girls sitting on horribly stained chairs from all the kids who have sat in them over the years.

"When can I leave?" Hazel wonders.

"Ask you moms," I reply. Then I turn my eyes to my own daughter. "Jayda?"

Jayda sighs and pushes herself up out of the chair to come with me down the hall to get a bit away from where Hazel could hear.

"So what happened?" I ask her.

She begins explaining the situation nonchalantly. "Elliot with braces was behind Hazel in line, and she told Hazel she was really pretty for a guy, so I poured my Pepsi on her head."

"Jayda, we use words, not beverages," I say with a sigh.

"So what? Are you saying I was wrong?"

I'm not going to say that, because no, she was not wrong. She just didn't handle the situation in the most appropriate way. But I would've been more disappointed if she had done nothing.

"Wrong is based on perspective," I reply after a moment of thought.

She nods. "Mmm, got it. So what I'm hearing is next time use 7-Up so it doesn't leave a stain as evidence?"

"I can't support that. But also yes."

"Cool. I'm gonna grab my bag from my locker, then we can go home finally."

I nod and let her head off back to the main school halls. I start back to where Hazel is waiting, but on the way, a framed photo in an open office catches my attention, and I stop to admire it. It's a picture of a waterfall hanging on the wall with a rainbow glimmering in the water's shine. I only step inside the office for a second to get a closer look, but in that time, I hear someone come in and plop down on the couch across from the desk.

"There you are," a voice says. "I'm supposed to be choosing a college, but apparently I need math to be a doctor, and that's the only thing my parents will be happy with, so I'm thinking of running away and selling crystal meth to preteens instead."

When I spin around, it's a teenage boy kicking his feet up to rest on the desktop. Even though i'm positive I'm not who he intended to tell this information to, he doesn't look perplexed at all.

"I don't know how guidance counselling works," he goes on, "but if there isn't the whole counsellor-patient confidentiality thing, then pretend that was a joke."

"Guidance counsellor?" I respond.

"You're the guidance counsellor aren't you? This is my first time, but the teacher said I had to talk to you or he'd fail me on my dissection project for biology, because I started using the scalpel to spread the mayo on my sandwich."

"Actually, I'm not the guidance counsellor," I tell him.

"Then where is he?" the boy questions. "I've been waiting forever."

This is my problem with some school guidance counsellors. Some of them just don't care the way they should. I did a minor in social work while getting my film degree, so I know how difficult handling certain situations can be, but that's only more of a reason why these kids need proper support.

"I am qualified," I say, "so if you still want to talk to someone..."

"You don't work here?" he clarifies.

I shake my head.

"Even better. You can't tell my parents anything."

He gets himself comfortable with his hands behind his head and starts gushing.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

When the doorbell rings, I exit the kitchen and immediately let out a huge sigh. Toys and stuffed animals cover the floor, making it a maze to find a safe path to the doorway. I jump over a toy train, then trip over the crawling tunnel, but I make it to the front door after a minute. The postal delivery guy is about to leave when I finally show that I'm home, and he turns back around, looking in at the chaos in my house.

"Woah," the man in his twenties says. "You just throw a baby rager or something?"

I choose not to get into it. Otherwise, I'll end up more annoyed with the mess than I already am.

"Where do I sign?" I ask.

The man holds out his clipboard, and I take the pen to sign the paper with my name: Walker Beck. Once that's done, I receive a package of art supplies that I delivered, and the man steps to leave, but before he does, he says one last thing.

"Yo, careful not to trip."

"Yeah," I mutter. "Thanks."

I let the door close and spin around to plan my route back to the kitchen. After I've made it there, I leave my package on the counter and trek the rest of the way toward the stairs to go up to Austen's room where I find Jonah sitting on the carpet with her, playing with a set of fabric blocks.

"Hi," I say, sounding obviously frustrated.

At my voice, Austen drops one of the blocks, causing the whole block tower to collapse over as the little girl starts butt-scooting in my direction. She's gotten very good at this mode of transportation, and she makes it to my foot in seconds. Once here, she pulls on my pant leg, using it to help her pull herself onto her feet, and I reach down to pick her up.

"How, are you, princess?" I ask her with a smile.

She claps with her fingers spread wide as she giggles. After giving her a little kiss on the head, I turn my attention to my husband, getting more serious.

"Jonah, can you please clean up Austen's toys? I've already asked you to do it."

"Right," he says, standing up. "I was going to, but then we wanted to build a castle."

"You mean _you_ wanted to build a castle," I correct him.

"She did too."

"She can't say 'castle' yet, so how would you know?"

"Father's intuition," he replies.

"Right. Well, can you clean up the toys?"

"Sure," he answers. "After we finish."

I shake my head. "No. I'm gonna take her for a stroll instead—" I turn around to exit, being confronted by the stuffy-filled hallway again "—if I can get out of the house without impaling my foot on a toy."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

Although I could've taken the bus today, today is Wednesday, which means Deion has a guitar lesson. He leaves school sooner than me. I'm pretty sure he skips his last period most of the time to get here. He says he's a fast walker, but nobody is this fast. As I pass by Red Rooster Records, I see the curly, grey hair of Bowie sway as he riffs on his guitar through the window. Beside him is my friend. Deion notices me instantaneously, like there's a tracker in him that knows when I'm within range. I wonder if he has this talent with other people as well or if it's just me. I smile at him, to which he raises an eyebrow, making me feel effervescent and fizzy inside. I attempt to reflect one eyebrow back, but the distraction results in me tripping over a break in the sidewalk, nearly causing me to topple. Thankfully, I regain my balance, but the accident has already triggered a sweltering blush over my entire face.

I wait for it to drain a bit before entering the shop. The last few minutes of Deion's lesson give me even more time to make sure my cheeks are a regular temperature again while I browse through the jazz albums. I glance back at him every now and then, calculating how much longer he should be, but still he manages to catch me when I'm not prepared, stepping up beside me and making my pulse spike before sinking down again.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi. How was your lesson?" I ask him.

"Good. I didn't play much over the summer, so I'm still a little rusty.."

"I'm sure you're at least better than me."

At that, he suggests, "Why don't you learn?"

I shake my head. "I listen to music. I don't play it."

"No, but you could," he replies with a grin.

"The most musical person in my household is my sister with her slide whistle."

"Come on."

He takes my hand, and a current of electricity sparks through me in an instant. Suddenly, I understand what all those authors mean when they compare sparks to a touch. And I also understand how accurate that truly is. But he releases our connection almost as soon as it occurs.

"Oh, sorry," he says, realizing what he did.

"It's fine," I respond.

I didn't have a any objections, which is a tad alarming. Shouldn't I find it uncomfortable like I do with everyone else? What happened to consistency of feelings? I hate the physical touch of everyone except him: this is inconsistent, and it's disconcerting.

He waves me over instead, and I follow him toward the window where he picks up his guitar. I sit down on the bench chair across from his, and he hands the guitar to me. I grab the neck of the instrument with my left hand, making Deion have to manually position each of my fingers on the strings. I let him guide me into the desired spot until he's done and sits down in his chair.

"This is a G chord," he explains.

I strum the strings with my right hand, getting my nail caught on the biggest string. Still, Deion smiles, and he changes the shape of my left hand again.

"This is C."

Another strum, and another change.

"This is D. Now you know about half of all pop songs in the world," he says with a laugh.

"Won't come in dire use, since pop music is quite bland in my opinion," I respond.

"I know," he agrees. "Here."

He moves my hand into another form, pressing my index finger flat over the strings.

"This is a dominant 7," he says. "You can move it anywhere on the neck and play a jazz song."

I smile, responding, "This is much more suitable."


	89. S3 E2.2: Cy-chologist

**Jayda's POV**

When I get back to where Hazel is still sitting outside the principal's office, my daddy is nowhere in sight.

"You see where my dad went?" I ask her.

"No idea," she replies.

"Cool," I breathe.

I plop down in the seat beside her right as her moms come out of the office, having talked to the principal for way longer than my dads.

"Awesome," Hazel mutters. "My turn."

"Hazel," Auntie Amber starts, "I don't know why they brought you to the office. You're fine. Jayda, you're a fantastic cousin."

"I know," I say with a grin. "I wasted a Pepsi for her."

Hazel gives me a smile, then Auntie Andi waves for her to get up.

"Come," Auntie Andi says. "Let's go."

Hazel pushes herself onto her feet, and the three of them begin to walk away, but then Auntie Amber turns around again to talk to me.

"Jayda, where's Cyrus?"

"Don't know," I respond, "but I'm sure he's around here somewhere."

Auntie Amber nods. "You don't need a ride home?"

"I'm good. He'll be out here soon."

He's not typically one to be late, so I figure he can't be much longer with whatever it is he's doing. Auntie Andi and Auntie Amber let me stay in my chair as their family heads out, and soon it's just me and the sound of staplers stapling and mouses clicking from the offices. After a few silent minutes on my phone, a body drops into the chair beside me, and I look up to see Andreas. Right away, I feel a bit embarrassed. He's probably wondering why I was sent to the principal's office. Yet he's smiling, which only confuses me.

"What?" I question.

Andreas grins wider and leans down to pull out a can of Pepsi from his backpack then holds it out for me. I feel my face flushing in humiliation even more.

"Oh my God. You saw?" I say.

"It was kind of the most entertaining thing happening in the cafeteria," he responds.

He moves the drink closer to me, and I accept it, trying not to let my awkward butterflies get too strong.

"I'm apparently good at making scenes in cafeterias," I say.

I believe two years ago I made a scene after Jeremy douche-canoe Hudson started rumours about me. What's ironic about that day is that it wasn't a bad day. Like, yeah, it was bad for most of it, but that was the day Andreas found me crying in the washroom and offered me a tissue. I don't think he carries tissues around to random places anymore. But it definitely was handy.

Andreas laughs, and I crack open the can, hearing the fizzing rise up to the rim. Then I take a sip.

"Hey, wanna go outside instead?" Andreas asks. "I like to limit my time in the office to Tuesdays only."

I smile and answer, "Sure."

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

I didn't intend to keep going with this whole substitute counsellor thing, but after the first boy, there was a girl waiting for an appointment, and she didn't care that I wasn't the actually counsellor either. Actually, she said she was glad, because the actual counsellor just tells her she should get enough sleep before tests rather than talking to her about why she can't sleep.

"I've been playing the violin for years," she goes on, "and now I want to switch to the viola."

"Oh," I say, glancing down at the page of instruments she gave me, "so that wasn't a typo. That's an actual thing."

"I don't know what to do, because this could be life-altering if I make the wrong choice. Collages won't accept me."

"Collages want students who pursue their passions, and if violin isn't your passion, then you should go after the viola instead."

"Well, my passion is to be an actress."

"You could join the drama club," I suggest.

"I would, but I was kicked out last time."

"Last time?"

"I cried too much that it interfered with the scenes, although I thought it added flavour it was lacking."

I nod, saying, "Of course."

The next student is another boy, but this one has about twenty-four bracelets on both his wrists put together and a bandana around his neck. I can't tell whether he was going for a grunge or western aesthetic.

"So do I use the eyes to scare my teacher or scare the girl who files her nails during bio labs?"

"I think when you're dissecting frogs, the eyes can stay in the frog," I recommend.

Another girl has a problem that's right up my alley.

"I really liked kissing her, but I'm straight."

"Okay... Let's start by discussing how you came to that conclusion," I respond, "because it seems to clash with the information you've just given me."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

After I finish strumming the final chord in what Deion called the twelve bar blues, I look up from the strings to see him smiling at me. It's a peculiar sensation, for his stare rings more vibrations than the striking of the strings did.

"And you said you weren't good at guitar," he says, shaking his head.

"Actually, I said I didn't play guitar," I correct him. "Learning things isn't something I struggle with, although my hand is sore."

"Yeah, that happens at the start."

"Start would imply that this is a continuing thing," I respond.

"You think I'm gonna teach you guitar and let you quit right away?"

"Society has placed an overly-negative view on quitting," I resist.

"Okay," Deion sighs. "I guess there's no reason for you to have my guitar anymore."

He steals the instrument from under my arm, and I'm a tad disappointed, because I quite liked the feeling of holding his guitar. It was a bizarre warmth similar to that of when he accidentally held my hand.

"Maybe I'll learn again sometime," I cave.

Deion flashes me a smile as he places his guitar into its case and kneels down to lock the latches. Noticing him struggling with one, I get down to help him. When we happen to both reach for the same latch, our hands collide, which would be a simple fumble with anyone else, but with him, it's lightning. Our eyes snap together at the thunder of my heartbeat, and we don't move—don't breathe—until the storm calms down.

He eventually pulls away and stands up, lifting his guitar case by the handle.

"Cool, um, I gotta leave," he says.

"Of course," I respond. "Farewell until tomorrow."

"Sure," he says with a small smile and a nod.

I stand here, completely lost as to what to do now, while he steps away from me. Out of the blue, he freezes and turns back to speak.

"Brayden, there's something I..." He pauses, and but my anticipation only grows. "Actually, forget it." And the anticipation plummets.

He departs the shop, yet I remain standing in oblivion, dazed by my own begging curiosity over what he was going to say. Did he notice my trembling hands? Could he hear my throbbing heart? Is he planning to break off our connection for good now that it's become too much of a chore? And then a couple minutes later, I get a text, and I blink five times before I realize I'm awake.

 **Deion:** I'm gay.

Honestly, if this were a book, I would've seen this plot twist coming. In books, anyone can be anything, and anything can symbolize any feeling or foreshadow any event. In real life, people have no set purpose for their design. There is no reason why they are the way they are. We create reasons ourselves. Now I'm finding my head trying to decipher reasons for Deion's sexuality, reasons that I'm positive must be untrue: this is either the catalyst for his character arc, or he's going to be someone's someone special. I've heard people wonder about who the main characters are. Deion is definitely a main character. I suppose I must be his side friend. I wonder what my purpose for him would be if this were a story. It doesn't really matter, I guess, because this isn't that.

I realize after a moment that I still haven't responded. He's probably a nervous wreck waiting for me to reply. I pull the keyboard up and start typing.

 **Me:** How wonderful. So am I.

It's not new, but I think if I were coming out to him, that's how I would want him to respond. Make it simple and calm yet still validating.

 **Deion:** :)

 **Me:** :)

I take in a breath and let it out at the same time as the bass in the song from the record player nearby hits. Seeing as there's nothing else for me to do here, I begin my journey home.


	90. S3 E2.3: Cy-chologist

**Andreas's POV**

I have my legs stretched out over the grass as I lean against the stone school wall. Beside me, Jayda sits cross-legged, and I watch the way her black hair blows in the breeze like the tall grass too close to the building to be cut with a mower. It's warm outside, so I imagine the wind must be a nice coolness ruffling her peach-coloured dress and kissing her bare chest and arms gently like frost over a car window. Although I thought she might be a little cold, she doesn't seem to mind at all.

"You watch the girls' soccer team practice," she says, looking ahead at the players in the field a bit away. "You're that straight, huh?"

I let out a breathy laugh, replying, "I came here before they started their season."

"So this is just a bonus?"

No, the bonus is having her here. Her hair is clipped back on one side with a white beaded barrette. She has on her charm bracelet, and the chain reflects splotches of sunlight off the very place where the charm from Oceana used to hang. Giving it more attention now, I notice a new charm, but it's not a charm at all. It's the tiny, plastic diamond I gave her, now glued to a chain and dangling from a link near the latch. I don't mention it aloud, but I can't help but smile.

"There's Elliot with braces," I point out on the soccer field.

"That bitch," Jayda snipes.

She takes a sip of her Pepsi as she glares out at the girl. I just smile.

"She has some stupid Youtube channel with beauty tutorials where she makes homophobic and transphobic jokes," Jayda gossips. "Meanwhile, her boyfriend is about as straight as her teeth."

"Other girls are basic with their shit-talking," I respond. "You're creative."

"I don't half-ass my shit talk," she says.

That makes me laugh, and my laughter results in her smiling and looking down at the grass before bringing her eyes up to me again.

"Do you ever wonder what people say about you?" she asks.

Not really. I've never thought about it. And I've never cared.

"Do you?" I reflect back.

"I do," she admits. "I wonder if people actually like me, or if it's all in my head. And I want to know, but even if I asked, nobody's honest. Everybody alive is a liar."

"I don't mind it."

"You like when people lie?"

I shrug. "I'd be scared to know the truth. At least if people lie, I can make up my own truth."

"So you would be fine with me lying to you right now?" she questions.

I shrug again. I don't know my answer. Because with her, I want to know the truth—but I think it might be better to just keep pretending like my hope is a possibility.

"Okay," she says. "Andreas, those white socks go perfectly with those black shoes."

She eyes my feet, and I roll my eyes, letting the insult slide off me.

"Ouch," I respond. "Well, if you're lying, so can I."

"Really? You'd lie to me?" she teases.

"Maybe I already have." Not directly lying, but I definitely haven't told the truth. "You'll never know."

"Lie to me right now," she challenges.

I shake my head. "No."

"Wussy."

Her grin makes me break, saying, "Fine. Jayda, you are hideous and completely boring to talk to."

She pauses a moment before responding, "Well, Andreas, you are entirely repulsive, and I hate being around you."

"I hate being around you too."

It gets real quiet real fast, save for the soccer girls screaming to each other from the field. I could tell Jayda the truth right now, take my shot. With any other girl, I would've already done that months ago. But this is Jayda. This is a girl I actually, like, really like, and I really don't want to stop talking to her if she doesn't like me back. She's too important to me to tell her how important she is to me.

She glances down at her hands and raises her pop can, saying, "Well, I really don't like this Pepsi. And I don't thank you."

"You're not welcome," I respond gently.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

I open the front door of my townhouse while Austen finishes blabbering the sounds that she's been telling me since I took her out of her stroller to carry her inside.

"Gabagababamamamabawa!"

"Riveting story," I say. "I'll have to tell your uncles and aunts that one."

As soon as I close the door, annoyance floods over me again at the sight of the jungle of toys still stuck in the same positions I left them in a while ago.

"Jonah!" I call, and my husband comes sauntering into the room.

I lower Austen down onto the floor where she immediately starts scooting toward the nearest toy.

"Yeah?" Jonah asks.

I gesture to all the toys on the ground, and Jonah slowly looks down, trying to act like he doesn't know exactly why I'm mad.

"You haven't cleaned," I state.

"That's true," Jonah replies, "but I did something better."

He walks around the wall into the kitchen and comes back a second later with a tiny toy guitar with buttons instead of strings.

"What is that?" I huff.

"A guitar."

"You went out and bought more toys? What's wrong with all the stuff you haven't cleaned up?"

"Nothing," Jonah answers, putting down the guitar on the couch. "I'll get to it."

"Good."

I step past him to go to my art studio, but then Jonah starts heading into the kitchen, wondeirng, "What can we make for dinner—?"

"Toys," I remind him.

He pivots back around and begins reluctantly picking up the mess.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

I haven't been looking at the clock, but I can't have been here for that long. Then again, I've had a lot of students come to see me, even some who didn't have appointments. Apparently, people are saying how I'm better than the actual counsellor, so everyone's deciding to walk in while I'm here. The current boy lies down on the couch with his salt-stained Vans on the arm rest.

"So how does the idea of university make you feel?" I ask.

"Like I might as well burn my wallet," he responds.

"Okay, yes, but you could make more in the long run."

"Is there a school to become a skateboarder?"

"I don't know, but we can search that up together."

I roll in the chair over to the computer and start typing into the internet explorer, but suddenly I hear a grunt, and I look up to see Principal Schroo in the doorway.

"Mr. Kippen," he says.

I stand up and tell the student on the couch, "One sec," before joining the principal in the hallway. I doubt this can be good. I wonder if there are any legal repercussions with being a counsellor for a bunch of students missing their counsellor.

"What's going on?" the principal asks.

"Um, it began as an accident," I explain. "One student started venting to me, and I couldn't leave him alone, and then another came, and another. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm not mad," he assures me. "You got fourteen students to apply for college who weren't before. I was going to ask if you wanted a job, because if you do, you've got one here."

"What about the other guidance counsellor?"

"Yeah, he left to join a cult a week ago, and we haven't managed to replace him yet."

So they need a guidance counsellor, and the students here seem to like me, and I do enjoy helping them. But I also have a job already at a film company.

"I'll have to think about it," I say.

I step back into the office where the boy looks over at me, saying, "Hey, can I see you next week too? I think talking to you is really helping."

He actually wants me to be around. This boy has found security in talking with me. You know what? I've been making films for a long time, but I think this might be a good change. It's certainly not the same at all, but I got my social work degree for a reason. This is it.

I spin back to the principal and say, "I'll take the job."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

My bedroom is the best place for thinking, specifically when Andreas isn't around. I've gotten very good at pretending his half of the space does not exist and that my posters of old film and book covers are the only things on the walls. I tip back onto the bed and let my eyes soak into blurriness as I stare at the ceiling and ponder. It's obvious that I feel something for Deion, but it's all so much more perplexing than in the past. I've certainly liked boys before, but with them it was a deep interest in getting to know them. With Deion, that has sprung beyond that. It's not enough simply knowing his mind. I find myself drawn to him in ways I haven't felt before, like I've unlocked some secret treasure box in life that gives me more intense feelings than I used to have.

My brother interrupts my spiral of thoughts by entering the room and flopping down on his own bed. Surely we've both had interesting days. Curious, I glance over at him.

"It appears we're both deep in contemplation," I observe,

"My head's being loud," Andreas responds.

"You wouldn't last a day in my head," I counter.

"What's in your head?" he asks.

I wouldn't usually confide in him. We've always had this relationship where we go about our lives, and neither of us have to interact with each other. But I sense that he genuinely wants to know, and that makes me want to open up.

"A boy," I answer. "But different than other boys. Special." I let that sit before asking, "What about your head?"

"'Take Me Home, Country Roads' EDM remix," he replies without a second to think.

"Peculiar," I comment.

When I bring my eyes upward again, Andreas adds something else.

"And a girl."

I look over again. "A girl?"

"Tell anyone, and I'll drive you out to a desert and shove a cactus through your pancreas," he threatens.

"Consider my lips locked."

We let the quiet return unharmed, but it feels a little easier knowing we're both holding it up. It's not there to suffocate us. It's there to aid us, to give our thoughts space to bloom. A minute later, my dad passes by the room and peeks in.

"Cool," he says. "You're both still alive. Just checking."

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

A smile shines on my face when I enter the living room and see nothing but a clear floor and my daughter playing on her new toy guitar. Jonah sits on the couch, looking over at me.

"You happy again?" he asks.

"Yeah. Walking freely is nice."

I go over to sit down on the cushion next to my husband as a note is pressed on Austen's plastic guitar. The little girl grins at the sound and slaps another button.

"She's getting good, if you care," Jonah says.

"Jonah," I say, "I'm sorry for being hard on you. I love you."

"No, you were right."

He looks at me with a sorry smile, and I give him a kiss, but as I back away, I notice a purple mark on his arm.

"How did you get that bruise?" I ask.

"Uh, I tripped."

"Over what?"

"Toothbrush."

I look at him skeptically for a moment before saying, "You tripped over her toys, didn't you?"

Jonah quickly brushes past that, motioning toward Austen, saying instead, "I think she's gonna be the next Jimi Hendrix."

I smile and kiss my husband again, which makes him blush. Austen bangs another note on the toy guitar to get our attention.

"Lolly!" she says.

She hits the button again before falling onto her back in a puddle of giggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next episode will be on Monday August 10. Thank you, lovelies, for reading, and have a wonderful day!


	91. S3 E3.1: Chicks Be Crazy

**TJ's POV**

"Wyatt, you ready?" I call up the stairs.

My son comes blasting down in his basketball uniform, saying, "Sorry. I had to find my lucky socks."

At that, Cyrus comes winding around the stairwell out of the kitchen with a disappointed look on his face.

"Someone put them in your laundry basket," Wyatt goes on.

"Strange," Cyrus responds, even though I'm pretty sure he knows exactly how they got there. "Clearly something wants your socks washed. Maybe you should take it as a sign."

"No. Washing ruins them," Wyatt denies.

"Washing prevents foot fungus," Cyrus counters.

"It gets rid of the luckiness. Papa gets it."

Cyrus looks to me in concern. "Please tell me you wash your socks."

"Yes," I assure him.

"Papa knows the importance of your lucky charm to win a basketball game," Wyatt explains more. Didn't you have one?"

"Yeah," I say, "but mine was your dad."

"See!" Wyatt says like that proves his theory. "You didn't wash Dad. Otherwise he would've lost his luck."

"I didn't wash people people that often," I respond. "That's not really a hobby I got into."

"Plus, I did shower," Cyrus argues. "Maybe your socks can shower too."

"Socks can't take showers," Wyatt shuts down.

"They won't lose their luck," Cyrus promises.

"But they will, and I need it so that I can get _Kill Them All 3_."

This is the first I'm hearing of this, and it takes me by surprise.

"That M-rated video game?" I say.

"Yeah."

Cyrus looks equally as confused. "Why would winning help you get that?"

"Because you promised me you'd get it if I won my game."

Cyrus and I both look at each other at the exact same time. I don't remember making this promise, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Wyatt's only twelve, and sure, I'm not exactly strict with what I allow him to do, but an M-rated game is a bit too far. Maybe when he's thirteen, but not twelve. But Cyrus must've promised it to Wyatt, and I don't want to undermine him, so I don't speak up about my opinion.

"Uh, right," I say.

"I'm gonna win and get my game, so I need my lucky socks full of luckiness," Wyatt states. 

Cyrus takes another moment to process that before saying, "Um, okay, let's go to the car."

Cyrus opens the front door, and he walks with Wyatt out to the car, while I wait for the last person in the family to get down here. It's only a few more seconds before she does, walking down in a shiny, blue slip dress like she's going to a dinner date rather than a middle school basketball game.

"Why do I have to go to Wyatt's games?" she complains as she descends the stairs. "All he does is head-butt the ball and get benched."

"Yeah, well, he came to all your dance recitals as a kid."

"He was a baby. He couldn't drive to the mall instead."

"Still, all you did was copy the people beside you when that wasn't even your part to dance."

"The teacher failed me," she argues. "She didn't teach me well."

"Yeah, I've used that excuse before," I reply. "I know how it goes."

I wave for Jayda to come along, and she sighs before sliding on a pair of wedges and following me out of the house.

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

"Hurry up," Brayden orders. "We're gonna be late."

I pull on my jacket in the mudroom while my three kids all get their shoes on by the door. Brayden finishes first and has to wait for the others, clearly annoyed while he does so. Andreas takes his time, not so concerned about the clock, and Cara just tries to force her feet into her runners without using her hands.

"So you like basketball now?" Andreas says to Brayden.

"No," Brayden replies. "Deion's on the team."

"Ohhhh," Andreas responds like he finally gets it. "So you like Deion now."

While Brayden's face turns tomato red, Cara starts mocking him by singing.

_"Brayden and Deion sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S—"_

"Stop it," Brayden snaps.

"I'm just joking," Andreas tells his brother, giving his shoulder a light shove.

"I'm not," Cara says.

Next, Buffy comes into the mudroom, her eyes tired and overall posture droopy like a flower limp from the cold.

"Hey. How you feeling?" I ask.

"Awful, tired, aching," she mumbles, "and desperately craving chocolate; regular pregnancy things."

"That's not good," I respond with a frown. "So you driving?"

She doesn't even answer the question. Rather, she just shoots me a searing glare and grabs her purse from the counter. She whips the door open and leads the kids out into the garage, not even acknowledging me.

"Cool," I mutter in confusion and head out with them.

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

I carry Austen as she gazes around at the student artwork on the walls of Jefferson Middle School. It hasn't changed much since I went here, except for the occasional refinishing of a scratched up wall here and there. Walker walks beside me toward the gym, but I have to stop when I overhear a man's phone conversation nearby.

"No, it completely shrunk," she man says, aggitated. "The mascot can't wear it ... No, Johnny. It couldn't fit in a microwave, let alone hold a teenage boy."

Angry, he turns around and takes a huge stride, bumping right into me.

"Whoops," Austen says.

That's something she says whenever she one of us falls or bumps into anything now. I think she picked it up from Walker who said that to her when she was even smaller.

"Sorry," I say, but then I see the tiny bear costume in his hand. "What's that?"

"It used to be the mascot," he answers with a sigh, "but someone left it in the wash for 3 weeks, and it shrunk so much that we'd need a baby to be the Grant Grizzly."

That gives me an idea, and I flick my eyes to Austen who matches them right back with her clueless face.

"Austen, do you know what sound a bear makes?" I ask.

"Baa!" the girl replies happily.

"Almost." Then I look to the man. "Do you need a grizzly?"

He smiles at the proposition, but then I notice Walker coming up beside me.

"Jonah," he says in an uncertain voice.

"That would be fantastic!" the man says before Walker can say anything else.

My huge smile wildly contrasts Walker's frown.

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

My youngest son grows a smile the moment we step into the gym, and he sees his friend on the edge of the court with the rest of the Jefferson team. Deion waves, which Brayden reflects back. This simple gesture is enough for Cara to start singing again.

_"K-I-S-S-I—"_

"I'm going to make your teenage years horrific if you keep this up," Brayden interrupts his sister.

"I'm not gonna have teenage years," Cara shoots back. "I'm skipping them, because everyone says they're awful."

"Your optimism is admirable," Brayden mumbles, "but also just plain incorrect."

Buffy steps up to me, saying, "I'll be right back. I gotta use the washroom."

As she turns around to leave, I ask her, "Do you want me to get seats?"

That makes her monotone voice and emotionless face return as she replies, "No, don't worry. I'll do it."

She trudges away in a bad mood beyond what she's usually like, which means I think there's something more going on than just pregnancy. I look over at my oldest son, thinking he might know a bit more than me.

"She's mad at me," I conclude.

He raises his eyebrows, saying, "No shit."

"You know why?" I wonder.

"Chicks be crazy," he responds with a shrug.

**TJ's POV**

When the game starts, Wyatt's energy is overloading, seeping out every time he hops from one leg to another, eagerly waving for someone to pass him the ball. He's not great at basketball, but he's good enough to make the team. He runs past one of his teammates, the boy Brayden's friends with, and steals the ball from the opposing school. I want to cheer him on, but I've also got this nervousness in my gut, knowing that if he does well, he's gonna be getting nightmares from an inappropriate video game for the next month or so. Cyrus sits next to me, also lacking excitement, while Jayda is sitting farther up the bleachers with Andreas.

"Hope he does well," I say. "Then he'll get that game, I guess."

Cyrus soaks up the comment before sighing and saying in frustration, "TJ, why didn't you ask me first?"

"Ask you what?"

"Ask me if I agreed with getting him an M-rated game. I don't want him playing that."

Although that lines up with Cyrus's character perfectly, the circumstances make me shocked. He was the only other person who could've promised him that, so now I don't know what's going on.

"Me neither," I say. "I definitely didn't promise it."

"Are you sure?" Cyrus says, raising his brows. "You might've said it when you were tired, or maybe you didn't hear him fully."

"Why do you assume it's me?" I argue.

"Because you also tend to make promises when you're watching the basketball game on TV without listening to what you're promising," Cyrus justifies.

Yeah, he's not wrong, but I think I would've known if I had promised this. Plus, why does he blame me? I'm not the only one who ever makes mistakes.

"What about you?" I question. "You say yes as your go-to response."

"I swear that's only with you," Cyrus states.

"Well, I would've remembered him asking me about that game," I say.

"Well, one of us promised it."

"Can we take it back?"

Cyrus frowns. "I want to, but that also doesn't teach him a good lesson about honouring his commitments."

We both look out at our son who dribbles the ball until the other team swipes it from his range.

"Other option," I say: "we try to make his team lose."

Cyrus looks at me with a gasp. "TJ, that's horrible."

"So..."

"No. We're not going to make him lose," Cyrus denies. Then he pauses a moment before adding, "We'll just hope he loses."


	92. S3 E3.2: Chicks Be Crazy

**Jonah's POV**

I hold Austen's hands to keep her on her feet while Walker sits on the bench behind me, near where the team coach is standing. He stares at our daughter in her little grizzly bear costume. The head was too big, so she has little bear ears on a headband instead, and she loves it, bouncing up and down while watching the middle schoolers run around the court.

"Ready?" I ask her, and she nods. "Okay. Go grizzlies!"

"Grrrrr!" she growls, giving the most adorable bear impression I've ever heard in my life.

Her little voice makes all those around us glance over and one of the boys on the court to get a whistle blown for travelling while being distracted by Austen.

"Jonah, why did you offer this?" Walker grumbles.

"She's a natural entertainer," I defend.

Austen turns toward her other dad and starts jumping and pulling on my hands while looking at him, saying, "Lolly, Lolly, Lolly!" Then she lets go of my hands to wave her little bear paws around. "Grrrr!" She giggles and tries to take a step forward, but right away, she loses her balance, tumbling backward onto her bum, and instantly she erupts in sobs.

I reach down to pick her up, hugging her close as I tell her, "Hey, it's okay. You're alive."

Walker just shakes his head and brings his eyes ahead to the basketball game.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

A middle school basketball game definitely isn't what I would've liked to be using today for, but it's my nephew, and he always liked when the whole family comes, and honestly he's almost a teenager, so that opinion will probably die soon, so we might as well make the most of this time. As the game goes on, though, Andi realizes we didn't bring any drinks with us, so we leave Hazel to go out to the vending machine to get some. As we approach the lit-up beverage box, I get out my wallet.

"What do you want?" Andi asks me.

"Anything but grape soda," I reply.

She takes a couple of coins from my wallet and drops them into the machine. "Root beer?"

"Sure."

The whole vending machine rattles after she hits the button, but when the buzzing noise stops, there still isn't a drink falling. Andi kneels down to check the bottom of the box where the can would've fallen, but nothing's there.

"Great," Andi mutters.

Out of habit, I try pressing the button again, and when that doesn't work, I hit a few more.

"That's how you started a fire," Andi reminds me. "Let's not do that."

"Well, who do we ask about this?" I wonder.

"I don't know. We can just buy a new one."

"I don't have anymore change."

"Then we'll skip the drink."

"I paid for it. I want it."

Andi sighs. "So what? We try to shake it out? That never works well."

I smile. "Maybe we'll be the exception."

**Hazel's POV**

Since my moms aren't sitting with me to force me to pay attention to the game anymore, I let my mind wander in other directions. I could go join Andreas and Jayda up the bleachers, but I feel like whatever conversation they're having is either going to be really awkward for me or just plain frustrating knowing what I know about both of them. Honestly, if Jayda would've just let me tell Andreas she likes him, then this whole thing could be sped up. With that card off the table, I notice Brayden closer to the bottom of the bleachers. It's so bizarre to see him this invested in a sports game. Obviously, there's something more than the sport keeping him tied up. Curious to uncover that, I make my way down the steps and cross the bench to sit down next to him.

"You not reading a book at a sporting event?" I tease. "That's quite a sight."

"Yes, I suppose it is," Brayden responds without removing his eyes from the game—or should I say the player.

Brayden and I are only two years apart in age, yet we don't talk frequently. If I'm being honest, a big part of that is probably because I thrive on the drama in Jayda's and Andreas's lives, but Brayden's never really had anything especially entertaining happen that would keep my analyzing brain occupied. Now there seems to be finally something a little bit interesting happening to him. He stares at player number 5 on the court. When the player glances over at Brayden with a wry grin, I notice Brayden perk up a bit.

"Is that your friend?" I ask.

"Yes."

"I didn't think you'd be friends with a basketball player. Aren't all your friends theatre kids?"

"My two other friends? Yes."

"So what's the deal with this guy?" I wonder.

"In what sense?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Like what's the deal with you and him?"

"Nothing peculiar," Brayden replies. "I like talking to him, and he seems to like talking to me, so we associate with each other sometimes. ...A lot of the time. I see him more than I see my other friends now."

The realization seems to make Brayden ponder, while I'm just saying, "Interesting."

"Not particularly," Brayden responds, trying to minimize his situation.

"So you two are close?"

"I see what you're trying to imply, but I denounce it. He's simply my friend."

"You jumped ahead there," I say with a curious grin.

"You were going to get there," he states.

"Yeah, but usually people let me get there on my own."

"I'm not my brother. I don't take a year to understand things."

His thought is ended by number five getting a basket and looking back at Brayden who warms into a smile like a sunrise making him lose interest in anything other than the sun ray on the court. When Brayden glances back to me again, he suddenly realizes how big he's smiling, and he quickly wipes it away, drowning in a scarlet blush.

**Walker's POV**

"Grrrrr!" Austen growls and cheers, "Go! Go! Go!"

She lets go of Jonah's hands to clap, and Jonah holds her waist to make sure she doesn't fall this time. I know Jonah likes...I don't even know what category this would fall under—maybe weird things that are also mildly nice for one person—but I wasn't on board with our daughter being shoved into a bear costume and forced to cheer. I'm still not on board, but Jonah glances back at me with a smile.

"See," he says. "She likes it."

"Austen," I say, getting my girl's attention, "do you like being in a stinky bear costume?"

Austen struggles to find the necessary words, so she scrunches her eyebrows in focus as she stutters, "I like—I like—I like—grrrrr!"

She looks up at Jonah with an open smile. I guess that's my answer. With a sigh, I get up from the bench and kneel down beside her.

"Alright," I say. "Let's cheer."

Jonah smiles as he begins, "Go grizzlies!"

Austen giggles in a ear-blasting squeal then looks up at Jonah and starts shouting, "Poppy! Poppy! Poppy! Grrrr!"

She laughs again resulting in her wobbling, but I push her back upright when she starts to tip. After her scare, she freezes for a moment, but then she looks at the basketball players again and continues her growling, which makes some of the moms in the bleachers nearby awww.


	93. S3 E3.3: Chicks Be Crazy

**Marty's POV**

Buffy and I sit together on the bleachers, but she doesn't talk to me. She keeps her eyes locked onto the game ahead. Even when I try to make conversation, she brushes it off with a quick, one-word answer. Eventually, I have to ask the question.

"Hey, are you upset with me?"

She looks at me in disbelief. "It took you this long to notice?"

"No, I thought you were mad, but I don't know why."

"Of course you don't," she scoffs. She shakes her head and stands up, muttering, "I'm gonna go get some water."

She climbs down the bleachers and exits the gym, leaving me with no answer about what I did to make her angry. I don't remember doing anything. I wish she would just be straight up and tell me.

Behind me, Jayda suddenly leans forward next to Andreas.

"You're not going to apologize?" she says.

"I don't even know what I did?" I respond, turning to face her.

"You clearly did something," she counters.

"Then she should tell him that," Andreas chimes in.

That comment irks Jayda, and she whips her attention to him, arguing, "He should know."

"But I don't know," I say.

"Girls can't just expect guys to know things without telling them," Andreas complains.

Jayda halts for a few seconds, narrowing her eyes on my son.

"Well, girls shouldn't have to solve everything for boys."

"So why is she mad at me?" I question.

Jayda returns to me, saying, "You really don't know?"

I shake my head.

"Well, when did she start acting cold?"

"Uh, I guess when we were leaving the house."

"What did you do then?"

"Nothing," I answer. "She showed up and told me about how she was feeling bad, and we left to come here. She mentioned something about chocolate."

"That's it," Andreas says with a smile. "She wants chocolate."

"No," Jayda denies. "Well, yeah, but no." She looks at me. "You said she told you she felt bad. How did you respond to that?"

"I said how that's sad."

She waits for more, and when I don't give her more, she says, "That's it?"

"Well, we kinda had to go."

"So you rushed her out?"

"No. I asked if she was gonna drive, and 'cause she said she would earlier, and then she left really upset for some reason."

"Chicks be crazy," Andreas mumbles.

"You're both helpless," Jayda sighs. "It's obvious why she's upset. She finished telling you how bad she felt, then you brushed it off by telling her to do stuff."

"Well, why didn't she just tell me?" I say, annoyed with the entire situation.

"Chicks be crazy," Andreas repeats.

That makes Jayda snap her eyes onto him again, and he stiffens.

"Stop saying that." she orders. "I'm a chick, and I'm not crazy."

Andreas grins slightly as he teases, "Eh, you're a little crazy."

Jayda rolls her eyes, then Andreas leans closer to her to add one more thing.

"A good kind of crazy."

"Is there really a good kind of crazy?" Jayda challenges, looking right back at him in a way that causes my son to fixate fully on her.

"I think so, because otherwise you wouldn't exist," he replies.

"I'm gonna go talk to her," I say, interrupting their friendly arguement.

I get up and go for the hallway, finding Buffy by the water fountain. The moment she's finished drinking, she sees me and stands up, folding her arms over her chest.

"Hey," I say."

"Hey," she responds flatly.

It may have taken Jayda spelling it out for me to finally get why she's mad, but that doesn't mean I don't care. I guess it could've seemed like I didn't care about her. But I do. And I would literally say anything to make her happy again.

"I'm sorry I wasn't more considerate of you earlier," I say. "I didn't really think about how you must feel with me asking you to drive when you're feeling gross."

"Took you long enough," Buffy mumbles.

"I don't like fighting with you. Can you forgive me?"

A smile spreads on my wife's face as she drops her arms. "Yeah, I can. But you owe me a chocolate bar."

I take her hand and lace it into mine, saying, "I was gonna get you one anyway."

**Cyrus's POV**

Wyatt dribbles the ball up to the net, and TJ and I watch anxiously. Then he takes the shot and...misses.

"Yes," we both breathe.

Right as we say that, Marty and Buffy sit down behind us, giving us confused looks.

"Yes, he tried his best," I say, trying to save us.

TJ gives our friends a nervous smile before focusing back on the basketball game.

**Amber's POV**

On three, Andi and I rattle the vending machine together until we give up, and I step back, frustrated and wishing I had a hammer to just break the damn thing open. I just want my root beer. That's all.

"Can we just turn this whole thing sideways?" I groan.

"We're hardly strong enough to shake it," Andi reminds me.

Sick of this, I kick the machine, and suddenly, after all that shaking that didn't work, a clunk sounds from inside it. Amazed, I bend over to reach for the drink, but behold, what I take out isn't root beer. It's a grape soda.

"Andi, it's taunting me," I grumble.

"Amber, I'll take the grape and get you a pop later," Andi suggests.

"I was gonna have it for the game," I say, disappointed.

"Well, the game's almost done."

"This was a waste of time."

Andi nods and takes my hand to walk with me back to the gym.

"Next time, I'm bringing my tools so that I can take apart any vending machine that ignores me," I mutter.

"You do that," she says gently.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

It's the last few seconds now, and I've never been more stressed—well, maybe when I was coming out for the first time, but this is still very stressful. Wyatt steals the ball and passes it to a teammate who guides it toward the net.

"Please miss this shot," TJ whispers. "Please miss this shot."

Breaking our concentration comes Hazel passing by, wondering, "What kind of weird parenting method involves wishing for your twelve-year-old son to lose his basketball game?"

"Nothing," I react without fully thinking through my response. "We were talking about the other team."

Hazel carries on, and the ball gets passed back to Wyatt. I hold my breath as he runs up to the net and tosses the ball. It bounces off the rim, and the final buzzer blows. He lost. And TJ and I cheer.

"Don't cry too hard," Amber comments sarcastically from behind us. "It's just a middle school game."

TJ and I wipe our smiles clean as our son approaches us, looking defeated. It's not the time to be happy. It's the time to show empathy. And I do my best. But I'm really glad he lost.

"I lost," he says sadly.

"I know. I'm sorry," I respond. "You did amazing, though."

"Thanks, Dad, but it means more coming from other dad, because he actually knows how the points work."

Taking the cue, TJ tells Wyatt, "You did great. Darn. We were so ready to get you that video game, but hey, how about Slurpees instead?"

"Were you really going to get the game for me?" Wyatt asks.

"Of course," I lie. "We promised."

"Do you promise to get Slurpees?" he checks.

"Yeah, for sure," TJ says.

With that, Wyatt sighs. "Then I should tell you that you never actually promised to get me that game."

TJ and I both share stunned looks at the same time. He made us think we accidentally made a promise and made us blame each other. He's becoming cunning. He's turning into his sister.

"We didn't?" I say in shock.

"You're just realizing this now?" Jayda says condescendingly, coming down from the bleachers.

"You knew?" I say.

"Duh," our daughter responds.

"And you didn't tell us?" TJ says.

"Sibling code," the girl states. "We don't rat on each other unless we're doing hard drugs or are on someone's hit list."

"Wyatt, why did you lie?" I ask in disappointment.

"I said it as a joke. but then you believed me, so I figured I'd see how long it's take for one of you to realize. I didn't expect you both to be this oblivious."

"Papa's really good at being oblivious," I comment.

"And so is Daddy," TJ reflects with a smile, "even though he denies it."

"Whatever," Wyatt says. "As long as you get me a Slurpee."

"Hold on," I stop him. "Were you going to let us get you that game, knowing you were lying?"

Wyatt shrugs. "I wasn't going to not let you."

I look over at TJ, curious about his perspective on this.

"Are we, like, supposed to punish him or something?" TJ asks me.

"Is he too old for time-outs?" I reply.

"Wait, what did I do?" Wyatt speaks up. "You're the ones who can't remember the promises they make."

"But you lied about it," I remind him. "So you're..." I glance to TJ again, who gives me no help, so I have to come up with something on my own "...grounded."

"You're grounded?" Jayda echoes with a laugh. "Oh my God. I never get grounded."

Wyatt frowns at his consequence and asks, "Can I still go to Davey's tomorrow?"

"Sure," TJ answers.

Wyatt looks happy, but Jayda just gives both me and TJ an exasperated look.

"You have no idea how grounding works," she concludes.

TJ and I meet eyes again. This is the first time we've grounded one of our kids, so yeah, we don't really know the rules around it yet.

"Come on," I say to Wyatt. "Let's get those Slurpees."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

Deion comes out of the change room still shining from the sweat of the game but out of his uniform, instead in his normal jeans and hoodie. I watch him from where I sit on the bleachers, suddenly feeling self-conscious about waiting for him. I wonder if he thinks I'm being too clingy. I hope that's not the case. Based on the smile he gives me as he comes over, I decide it can't be.

"You're still here," he observes.

He has his eyes on me, as anyone speaking to me would, but his eyes seem to connect in a way nobody else's do—like they're a perfect fit, a lock and key, a gear shifting without any bumps.

"I have no reason to leave," I respond.

I stand up, accidentally getting closer to him than I had anticipated. I can't decipher whether this is a socially acceptable distance or not. But his face doesn't show me any signs of discomfort, so I don't back up.

"Homework?" Deion questions.

"It can wait," I answer.

The boy in front of me smiles, lips cupping naturally like a leaf catching and savouring a raindrop.

"I'm sorry you didn't win," I say.

"Hey, you were here, so I appreciate that."

"I like being here," I confess. 

I couldn't tell you why exactly, but it's clear I do. I like being near him. It doesn't seem to matter what we're doing. Just anything. Anything is enjoyable when he's present. That's why friends are friends, I suppose. Because they find pleasure in each other's existence. But he's a bit more. I'd have to be completely moronic to not realize that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! The next episode will be August 14, 2020. I'm excited for you all to read more. My favorite episode so far this season is episode 8. I'm very excited to see the reactions the that. Anyway, have a lovely day.


	94. S3 E4.1: The Devil's Cropped Top

**TJ's POV**

When I come into the kitchen, Cyrus is facing away from me, so I take steps light as air to sneak up behind him.

"Boo!"

Cyrus jolts, dropping the apple in his hand, and whips around in terror. When he sees that it's only me, he frowns.

"No. Stop," he whines. "That was mean."

"It's Halloween," I remind him.

"Not an excuse."

I shake my head and bend over to pick up his apple for him, saying with a laugh, "You scare too easy."

The instant I rise with Cyrus's apple, I almost drop it again as my teenage daughter steps into the kitchen in what I desperately hope is not what she's planning on wearing tonight. It's a black skirt that barely covers anything and a red camisole made up basically of just two triangles and a thin band of frilled lace. She has a headband too, on which stick up two red horns. Here's the thing: I'm fine with her wearing this around the house or to the beach or out with friends, but I really don't know how comfortable I am with her wearing this to a high school Halloween party.

Seeing my eyes widen in shock, Cyrus grins a little and mutters, "Now who scares easy?"

"Jayda," I say, "what exactly is your costume."

She points to the little horns on her head and answers, "I'm the devil. Duh."

I nod slowly, trying to put together in my mind how the little fabric she's wearing adds up to being the devil.

"Okay, I want to be as respectful as possible when I say this," Cyrus says, "but you're going to a party, correct?"

"Yeah," Jayda responds.

"And there's going to be alcohol?"

"And horny, straight, teenage boys who don't understand the meaning of consent?" I piggy-back on.

Jayda remains quiet for a minute while she takes in our fears.

"I won't drink anything I didn't open myself," she offers eventually.

"Could you not drink at all?" Cyrus wonders.

"That's very wishful thinking," Jayda replies.

Deciding we're done talking, she starts to leave, but my voice makes her turn back again.

"Jayda, please."

"Fine," she huffs. "I won't drink. I'll text Andreas and say I can drive us."

Right as she steps into the hallway, she is forced to make way for her brother who comes galavanting into the kitchen in nothing but swim trunks, a cape, and socks, and Jayda looks disgusted.

"I'm Aquaman's sidekick's sidekick!" Wyatt proclaims.

"He can wear that, but you freak out when I wear this?" Jayda complains.

"Wyatt, go put a shirt on," Cyrus orders.

"You're lame," the boy groans then heads back toward the stairs.

Jayda turns to leave too, saying, "Okay, see you."

As she exits the house, I look to my husband and ask him, "Shall we get going?"

"We have to wait for Wyatt," Cyrus says.

Our son comes back down in a flash, now in a white T-shirt, although it's on backwards.

"Better?" Wyatt asks.

"As good as it's going to get," Cyrus responds. "Come on. We'll drop you off at your friend's house."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

"What is your costume supposed to be?" Linny's voice buzzes through the Zoom call on my phone.

"I'm a newsie," I explain.

"Oh my gosh," Kelsey says beside Linny on the same video. "Either we've completely corrupted you, and you're now a full theatre kid, or you're lazy and just found a vest and hat to go with your everyday wear."

"It was Deion's idea," I say. "We're both newsies."

I walk up the pathway toward Deion's house. The smallest kids in the neighbourhood are already out going door-to-door, while the older ones are waiting for the sun to turn to pastel and drizzle away below the horizon. It's windy out. The crimson leaves of the trees race on waves of air like Mother Nature's breath blowing dust off a tabletop.

"Oh, that's actually really cute," Kelsey fawns.

"When did you two become, like, a thing?" Linny wonders.

It's not the first time someone's assumed I and Deion were in a more complex relationship, but it still makes me sigh. It's a little disheartening how nobody seems to think I can be friends with a boy and not fall for him. It's amusing too. Love is such a rare anomaly that to think I could find it with this random boy who picked on me last year is a gullible dream. I don't expect to find it until I'm at least forty and owning my own small bookstore.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say.

"You're going out on Halloween in couples costumes," Linny summarizes.

"His mom asked him to take his brother and brother's friend trick-or-treating," I explain. "I'm just coming so that he has a friend to talk with."

"Well, we are going to get all the candy in the neighbourhood," Kelsey says. "We'll make sure to grab some Charleston Chews for you."

"Thank you."

"Bye!" Linny says. "Have fun with Deion."

"Don't replace us," Kelsey jokes.

"I assure you I won't."

I'm smiling as I hang up, and then I look ahead at Deion's front door. I can see the living room through the window, including the bookshelf of knick-knacks and the small, square television. Immediately after I ring the doorbell, I see a shadow pass over the carpet inside, and the door opens, revealing Deion standing there in his newsboy look. It includes grey pants, a white dress shirt, a plaid vest, and a newsboy cap. He has his sleeves rolled up above his elbows, making my eyes cling to the shapes of his veins and muscles throughout his forearms. After the brief moment, I continue admiring his costume, then at the same time, we both begin to speak.

"You..." we start simultaneously.

Deion quiets and says, "You go first."

"You look nice," I finish.

"I was going to say the same thing about you," he replies.

I smile and enter into his home when he motions me forth. Coming from the other end of the hallway is Jamar in a jedi costume that he made with a robe and a toilet paper roll lightsaber. It doesn't light up or make sounds, so he makes his own, saying "niew niew" every time he swings it.

"Did you make that?" I say. "That's really good."

"Thank you," the boy responds. "I spent a hundred days on it."

I glance over at Deion, both of us smiling at Jamar's exaggeration.

"Let's go so that we're not late meeting your friend," Deion says.

"Okay," Jamar agrees.

He runs past me to put on his shoes, and once he's finished, he looks up at me then over at his brother again.

"Is Brayden staying the whole time?" he asks.

"Yeah," Deion answers. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah. I like Brayden."

That makes me feel a slight sense of comfort. I did not expect to care about a random, seven-year-old boy enjoying my company, but the fact that it's Deion's brother makes it feel like winning a contest.

Deion smiles at me while responding, "Yeah."

His eyes break away as he gets the door, but the warmth stays with me even as we three step out into the autumn breeze.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

The bowling alley has a few glowing skeletons in the black lights, but other than that, it's not too dolled up for the holiday. Pins clack as balls strike them on the other lanes. My friends and I, all eight of us, find our lane at the far end of the alley. It was too busy for us to get two lanes, so we just decided on one long game of eight.

"I appreciate the limited spooky decorations," Cyrus comments. "I'm always paranoid that something's going to scare me on Halloween."

Buffy laughs a bit at that, saying, "Well, if anyone scares me, I'm gonna pee."

Buffy's now almost five months pregnant, so she's got a noticeable baby bump. Fortunately, since this is her fourth pregnancy, she's handling it all well. When she was pregnant with Andreas, she was also twenty-three and called coffee a superfood to replace sleep, so that took a lot of adjusting, but this now is nothing. The downside about her being pregnant, and the thing she finds the hardest, is not being able to play all the sports she likes. Bowling was the safest option she could think of, since she won't run the risk of falling.

TJ and Cyrus go over to the shelves of bowling balls and browse through their options.

"Which ball do you want?" TJ asks.

Cyrus takes a moment before reaching for a blue one, but as soon as he lifts it, he drops it down again.

"Nope. Too heavy," he says.

"That's the lightest one they have," TJ tells him.

"Oh."

Marty chooses a ball for Buffy and carries it over to the ball return for her before the two of them sit down at the end of the lane.

"Cyrus," Andi calls out, looking up at the screen, "you're up first."

"Alright," Cyrus responds.

He lugs his ball up to the dotted line, places it down on the floor, and gives it a light push. I can see where this is going even before it halts halfway down the lane, and everyone sighs.

"I'll get the employee," Marty says, then he stands up to go find someone who can solve our problem.

"Sorry," Cyrus apologizes, his eyes showing his embarrassment.

TJ throws an arm over his husband's shoulder and presses a kiss to his temple.

"When was the last time we went out without any of the kids, all of us?" Jonah wonders, looking around at our group.

"That time at the beach two years ago?" Buffy recalls.

"No," TJ says. "Brayden was there."

"How come I don't remember him?" Buffy wonders.

"He was charging people for plots of sand and wanted me not to tell you," TJ explains.

"Wow," Buffy breathes. "That was that long ago."

"We should've brought Austen," Jonah says. "She would've loved the blacklights here."

"Jonah, you do everything with Austen," Walker tell him. "This break is good for you."

"What if she misses me?"

"She's with your mom. Judy knows how to take care of kids."

"She doesn't know the trick to getting her to falls asleep," Jonah argues.

"What? Singing?" Walker guesses.

"No. ASMR videos."

"I'm okay with your mom not knowing that trick," Walker responds.

It only takes a second for Jonah to get distracted by something else, and he points across the room.

"Hey, a claw machine."

"Maybe you can win something to bring back to Austen," Buffy suggests.

"Claw machines are impossible," I chime in. "Don't bother."

Jonah ignores my advice, saying, "I'm gonna try."

Walker follows Jonah toward the game right as Marty gets back with an employee who has an expression like he hates this job and is only doing it to pay for college. Nonetheless, he steps out to the lane and shoves the ball down toward the end.

"Thank you," Cyrus says as the boy returns. "Could you please put the bumpers up too?"

The boy sighs and does as asked before heading back to the front desk.

"Where are Jonah and Walker?" Marty suddenly asks.

"Claw machine," Buffy answers.

"Good luck to them," Marty scoffs. "I used to play that thing forever. Never won a thing."

As soon as he's done saying that, Jonah shows up holding a stuffed frog and a huge smile, putting a dumbfounded expression across Marty's face.

"Look what I won for Austen!" Jonah says.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

I pull out my phone as I step up to Andreas's doorstep.

 **Me:** I'm here.

A few seconds pass before he responds.

 **Andreas:** You know there's a doorbell right?

 **Me:** Coming from the guy who uses the window.

 **Andreas:** Got me there.

I tuck my phone into my small purse as I hear the door unlock, and Andreas opens it up, but the second he sees me, his eyes fall down over my body, and his jaw opens a little.

"Woah," he reacts.

I roll my eyes, pretending I don't care for his response, but I have to admit I'm not totally indifferent to it. Like, I'm glad of happy I could make his eyes flicker over me then back to my face repeatedly like they're doing now. I don't think that was my intention when I was getting dressed, but who's to say there wasn't some subconscious thing going through my head.

"A devil?" Andreas asks.

"Thank you! My dads didn't get it."

He nods, his eyes giving me another glaze.

"What are you?" I question.

"Night," he answers with a grin.

I examine his black pants and plain black long-sleeved shirt.

"Yeah, okay," I respond with sass. "Ready to go?"

"Actually, so change of plans. My sister kinda just decided she didn't want to go trick-or-treating, and to be honest, I'm not desperate to go be around a bunch of my stoned friends all night, so I'm gonna stay home with her. Sorry, I was meaning to tell you when I got the door, but then you—" he gestures over my outfit but doesn't finish the sentence. "I kinda forgot."

"Oh."

"But you can go," he says.

"And be around my friends alone? I'd rather the stoners."

I step past him through the doorway. If he's not going to the party, then I'm not either. Because, like, yeah, I was only going to go because he was.

"You sure you don't want to go to the party?" Andreas asks.

"You think I'd lie?" I shoot back.

"You literally lie all the time."

I just roll my eyes and remove my shoes. Andreas closes the door at the exact time that Cara comes galloping down the stairs into the living room.

"Hi, Jayda," the girl says.

"Hi, Cara. No costume?"

The girl shakes her head.

"That's not like you. Didn't you dress as the grim reaper for New Year's?"

"I don't know," she mutters. "I'm gonna get a brownie."

She makes her way into the kitchen and out of the conversation. It's weird. She's usually a lot more chatty and loud. She also wouldn't skip getting candy on Halloween. It makes me wonder what's going on.

"What's up with her?" I ask quietly to Andreas.

He shrugs.

"Do you never talk to her?"

"Not really. She kinda just does her own thing now."

The girl returns from the kitchen with a handful of potato chips rather than a brownie. She brings it up to her face to crunch, making crumbs fall to the ground.

"Cara, why aren't you trick-or-treating this year?" I ask her.

"Didn't feel like it," she replies.

"Didn't feel like having candy?"

"I can get candy in other ways," she reasons.

"Yeah, but isn't trick-or-treating easier?"

"Easy isn't better," she shuts down.

She goes for the stairs, having finished with that way too real reminder. It makes me look at Andreas. Because what we have right now, this friendship, is easy. But I wonder if if could be better. Or maybe it would just go to shit if I tried to progress it. Andreas's eyes meet mine like flames dripping into each other and become one bigger fire. It tingles my nerves and makes me feel like I either need to pull up now or let myself drown.

"I'm gonna see what's in your pantry," I say, pulling up.


	95. S3 E4.2: The Devil's Cropped Top

**Brayden's POV**

Jamar's friend, Aman, is wearing a knight costume, a perfect competitor in their lightsaber-sword battle that occurs continuously as we travel between houses. They fight on the grass of the boulevard to keep the sidewalk clear for the other children to walk without getting a cardboard tube lodged into their sides.

"Okay, next house," I say, motioning for them to go up the path.

They skip the path, trampling the garden instead, a poorly thought-through choice, for Jamar catches his foot on a stone and goes plummeting to the grass. He hugs his knee to his chest, tears splintering his eyes, and I kneel down to get a better look at the situation.

"Are you hurt?" I ask.

"I scraped it," Jamar whimpers.

He flattens his leg out, revealing the spotty, red gash in his skin. Thankfully, I'm prepared for this. I reach into my messenger bag and take out a Band-Aid. Jamar's sniffles calm as I peel the packaging off and stick the bandage over the cut. He smiles gently and pushes himself back onto his feet, then he and his friend dash up to the door of the house to get their candy.

"You keep Band-Aids on you?" Deion notes.

""I don't like being underprepared," I respond.

"That's good, 'cause I'm never prepared," he says with a smile.

"Then we balance each other out," I conclude.

He smiles at that, even though it's nothing other than a simple fact. We are two ends of a see-saw. We provide what the other is lacking. That's why I'm always so excited to learn what he'll do and say: because it's opening a new book, turning a new page. He's the mystery that motivates me to keep reading. And I must confess that the cover of this book isn't what I'd call boring to look at either.

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

The beep on the microwave sounds, and I pull out the steaming bag of popcorn. Jayda waits by the island with a bowl, which I pour the fresh popcorn into. The kernels tumble out in yellow puffs, all crisped with black.

"Cool, I burnt it," I state.

Jayda looks down at it in confusion. "You only put it in for 30 seconds. I don't know whether to be disappointed or impressed."

"I have a talent," I joke.

She laughs, a sound like a song, and I pick up one of the kernels, popping it in my mouth, having forgotten how I wrecked it. It's bitter, and I regret it, but Jayda distracted me, and I don't want her to know that, so I keep chewing until I can swallow.

It's even worse when Jayda leans over the counter on one elbow while picking out a piece of popcorn for herself, because I suddenly become way too aware of how low her shirt is. And my thoughts are unholy, to say the least, so I try not to look there. But my other choice ends up being her hair which pours over her shoulders like a waterfall, hiding slivers of skin from sight, and that only makes me want to brush it back. So I try her eyes, but that was a fail from the start. I don't know why my dumb ass thought it would help to let myself get hooked into her deep brown gaze. Her eyelids glitter with smoky eyeshadow and are lined in black, drawing me in even more.

"That's the best costume you could come up with?" I say.

"What?" she responds, her lips curling a little. "You don't like it?"

"Um...I mean..." _How do I respond to that?_ "Yeah, but, um... I don't know if the devil would look this..." I gesture to her shirt, but I can't find the word I want.

"You think the devil would be modest?" Jayda questions, raising her brows.

"Good point. Probably not."

She grins at her win, but I now feel bad for even bringing it up.

"I didn't mean anything bad," I tell her. "I just... I'm kinda glad you're not at that party, because boys are sometimes... You know."

"You're a boy," Jayda points out.

"I try not to be like them."

"Yeah," she responds, looking down for a second before bringing her eyes back to mine. "Yeah, you're not."

"I just wouldn't want anything to happen to you," I say.

I do believe girls should be able to wear anything they want without being objectified, but I also recognize that, with they way some boys are, I don't think I'd be able to relax if Jayda was at that party right now like this. And it's stupid and shitty, but I've never cared about anyone like how I care about her, so I don't want her to ever be in a bad situation like that. I would literally be her bodyguard if I had to.

Jayda's eyes linger on mine for a few breaths before she finally speaks, saying, "Let's remake this popcorn."

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

Amber releases her ball, getting a spare, along with a high five from Andi, but I'm more interested in Jonah holding his stuffed frog. I don't understand how he got it. Claw machines are rigged. People never win on them. How is he the one in a million?

"I don't get it," I say to Jonah. "How did you win?"

Jonah just shrugs. "It's not hard. I'll show you."

"Jonah," Buffy cuts in, "you can't win two times in a row."

Although he acknowledges that with a nod, he still stands up and leads me over to the machine. Walker comes along to watch his husband who immediately notices a problem.

"I don't have a dollar," Jonah says.

I take one out of my own wallet and stick it into the machine. I don't care about having to pay. I just need to know how he did it. The timer counts down only five seconds while Jonah positions the claw overtop of a bunny. He hits the button, and the claw scoops up the pink toy and releases it into the prize drop. It looks so easy. Maybe this machine is different than the others. It has to be.

"I wish it was yellow," Jonah comments as he takes his prize, "but pink is fine too."

"Let me try," I say. "I literally practiced this every day when I was young and never got anything."

I drop a dollar in and shift the claw to where it has to— _has to_ —work. But it doesn't.

"How did you do that?" I question Jonah.

Jonah, oblivious to the cause of his skill, shrugs.

"The universe just seems to like Jonah," Walker explains.

"I'm sure you'll get it," Jonah says. "Try again."

I try again. I don't get it. I'm annoyed.

"Must be broken," Jonah guesses.

"No. You probably got lucky," I conclude.

Lucky twice: not likely but possible I guess. Just to make sure, I put another coin into the machine and move the claw again, but then I hear my friends cheer, and I look over to see that Buffy just got a strike. When spinning around, Jonah accidentally bumps the handle of the machine.

"Oh, sorry," he says.

But I'm shocked. His bump hit the button, and by some miracle the claw grabs two stuffed animals at once. Seriously, is Jonah some kind of wizard?

**TJ's POV**

Buffy sits down proudly while Andi finishes showing Cyrus and me photos of Hazel's Halloween costume. It's just a rainbow floral dress with a lesbian flag tied around her like a cape and pink and orange hearts painted on her cheeks.

"I had to take this when she wasn't looking," Andi explains. "Otherwise she would tell me she didn't want pictures."

"What exactly is her costume?" Cyrus asks.

"I don't know," Andi admits. "She's just going to a party—not, like, a party party," she clarifies before we can think otherwise "—and she wanted all the girls to know she liked girls."

"I highly respect that kind of confidence," Cyrus says.

"If Jayda had a bi flag, maybe she would've done that," I say.

"She does have a bi flag," Cyrus corrects me. "She uses it as a curtain for her window."

"Huh. I haven't noticed."

"What's her costume today?" Amber asks from a seat across from ours.

"Well, about twenty percent of her was a devil," I respond.

"And the other eighty?" Andi asks.

"Nothing. Literally nothing."

"TJ's concerned about her clothes—or lack thereof," Cyrus explains.

"Ahh, I see," Andi responds.

"I know how teenage boys can be," I say, "and I worry for her safety."

She can make her own choices about what she wants to wear. I know that. But it's hard being a dad and having to battle between your daughter's freedom of expression and her safety. The amount of grey lines in parenting is something no one told me, and I had to learn it on my own. Sometimes I just wish she would let me decide things for her so that I wouldn't have to worry so much, but I know that's unreasonable. But it would make it easier.

"It's so stupid that that's even a worry we have to have," Andi says.

"I think I at least raised my boys pretty okay," Buffy says.

"You did," Amber assures her. "You made sure they knew it was their responsibility to respect girls, and not girls' responsibility to look like they should be respected, because everyone deserves respect. Girls should be able to dress how they want."

"I agree, but I'm just scared for her sometimes," I confess.

"That's completely understandable," Andi replies. "It's scary when they're growing up, and you have to trust that they'll be okay without you. But hopefully you won't be so scared eventually."

"You know I care too," Cyrus tells me. "I'm constantly struggling between letting her make her own choices and wanting to make them for her."

"Yeah." I let out a breath. "Man, she's almost seventeen. Can you believe that?"

"It feels like only a month ago that she was fifteen and screaming at her brother to stop running over her feet with his RC," Cyrus says with a laugh.

"Time goes faster the older you are," Buffy comments.

"Speaking of time," Andi says. "I believe it's time for TJ's turn."

I get up and go to bowl, hitting all of the pins except the two side by side in the back right.


	96. S3 E4.3: The Devil's Cropped Top

**Andreas's POV**

I don't even know what show we're watching. It's some Netflix show that Jayda picked out. The main character is a lesbian; I'm not surprised. I have to admit it's pretty entertaining. Just enough gore to make it fun but not so much that Jayda wouldn't like it. Actually, I don't know her opinion on gore. Maybe she'd love it. I wonder if she'd want to have a zombie film marathon sometime. If she does, though, she's got to stop reaching across the entire couch from the other end just to reach the popcorn then curl back up in her spot.

"You know you can sit closer," I say with a chuckle.

Jayda gives me a faint smile and shifts a bit toward me. But not enough. She's still reaching. And honestly, it feels pretty shitty. Maybe I'm making too much out of this, but it's like she doesn't want to be near me, like she's deliberately trying to keep her distance. Am I that bad?

"What are you guys watching?" comes Cara's voice as she descends the stairs, "and why are there so many bad words?"

I pause the show before spinning to face her, questioning, "What are you doing down here?"

Cara winds around the couch and plops down in between me and Jayda; there's plenty of room for her after all.

"I wanted to join you," Cara says.

"Uh, well, we can't really keep that show on," I respond.

"Do you want me to go away so you can keep watching?" she girl asks.

"No, not at all," Jayda denies. "Stay."

Jayda flicks her eyes to me, and I somehow understand her without any words. I switch to the Netflix homepage and start scrolling through.

"What do you want to watch?" I ask Cara.

"I don't know."

"Anything," I say.

"Um... I don't know."

The second 'I don't know' is what gets me, and I shut off the TV completely. Why? Because Cara always knows how she feels. Even when it's rude or unpopular, she has an opinion. Only this year has she started not really caring.

"Okay, what is it?" I question.

"What is what?" she wonders.

"I'm your big brother, right?"

She nods shyly.

"And you're my little sister."

She listens motionless, looking between the couch cushions and me.

"So you can talk to me about anything," I state.

"Anything?"

"Same goes for me," Jayda speaks up.

Cara glances back and forth between the two of us before muttering, "I just didn't want to trick-or-treat this year."

"You didn't want to dress up and see your friends?" Jayda says.

"I don't know," Cara murmurs. "I don't know what to dress up as anyway."

"You used to have a little Indiana Jones costume," Jayda recalls.

"I grew out of that," Cara says.

"You really are growing fast," I say. It's probably not news for her, but it's bigger for me, because it's weird to think that she used to not know how to even read a couple years ago, and now she can read the books that Brayden reads with only a few problems. She doesn't even play with dolls much anymore. Now she's really into crafting and building. It's kinda crazy how fast that all changed.

"I'm growing normal," Cara counters. "If anything, I hope I grow slow."

"Why is that?" Jayda asks.

"I just don't like it, thinking about growing up."

"Well, you know we're gonna have your back the whole time you grow up," I tell her.

She smiles and takes a moment to let that dangle in the quiet of the room. I don't know what's going on inside her head, but then again I never have. I never really tried to know. I think I should probably start trying more.

"I think I didn't want to wear a costume, because I'm sorta always wearing a costume."

I mean, yeah, sometimes she wears some pretty eccentric fashion, but I didn't think it was too costume-like.

Jayda takes a different spin on the confession, saying, "Yeah, sometimes we try to pretend to be things we aren't just to make people happy."

"Why do people care what I am?" Cara huffs.

"I don't know," Jayda responds gently. "People like to stick their noses where they don't belong."

"When will they stop?" Cara wonders, her eyes sparkling in the basement light, probably because of the layer of tears forming over her irises.

I bite my lip, annoyed about the answer, but I'm not going to lie to her.

"They don't," I breathe. "But you learn to stop caring about them."

Cara's breath is slow as she inhales and exhales steadily, becoming a rhythm.

"Can we watch She-Ra and the Princess of Power?" she asks.

I smile and get the show started.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Marty's on, like, his thirtieth try on the claw machine now as Buffy comes up.

"Marty," she says, "do you want to take your turn bowling?"

"Jonah's won twenty-seven times!" Marty complains. "I have to win once."

Buffy looks over at the table of stuffed animals that Jonah has been collecting.

"I'm gonna donate most of them," Jonah says.

"Cool," Buffy says dryly. "Are we gonna have to take out a loan because of the money you're spending?"

"No, because I'm going to win," Marty defends.

"Okay," she says, but it's obvious she doesn't believe him.

Marty gains another loss, and Jonah steps up with a frown.

"I don't know why he's so bad at this," Jonah says.

"I don't know how you're magic," I respond.

Marty fails again, and on the next try, Jonah decides to take matters into his own hands.

"Woah!" Jonah exclaims.

Marty looks at where Jonah's pointing, giving Jonah a chance to tap the joystick and make the claw move into a better position. Marty looks back to Jonah, confused.

"What was woah?"

"Oh, just the green...over there," Jonah lies. "It's a cool colour."

Marty shakes his head, moving on past Jonah's awful excuse and presses the button. Finally, the claw grasps on to a toy, and Marty's jaw nearly hits the floor in amazement.

"Finally! I don't know how it happened, but I finally did it!"

Marty pulls out the prize, a creepy skunk in a pirate outfit, and smiles.

"This will be for the baby," he says. "They'll have the proof that I conquered the claw machine."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

Jamar and Aman have stopped play fighting and are now deep in a conversation about Aman's sister. Deion and I trail behind them on the sidewalk, my hand tapping his every now and then, but it's nothing to be alarmed by. It's simply accidental. Simply accidental in a way that I like when it happens, and I try to make it happen again, but still and accident nonetheless, right? That could be an oxymoron...

"My sister isn't trick-or-treating this year," Aman says. "She sends more time with her boyfriend now."

"My brother doesn't have a boyfriend," Jamar replies.

It surprises me, because I didn't think Deion had come out to his family yet, but then the rest of the conversation exposes the fact that Jamar doesn't know. He's simply so innocent that he doesn't even understand why Deion wouldn't have one.

"Of course not," Aman says. "He's a boy."

"Why can't there be two boys?" Jamar asks.

"I don't know. There just isn't."

I give Deion a glance, and he gives me a contrite smile.

"Sorry about this," he whispers.

"I'm used to it," I respond. "But are you okay?"

I've faced plenty of homophobia. Deion, on the other hand, is new to this, or at least he is from what he's said. I don't get affected, but the idea of him internalizing the talk between these two little boys makes me feel somber.

Before Deion can give me an answer, Jamar looks back at him and asks, "Can there be two boys?"

Deion's eyes hit mine as he pauses, and then he replies, "Uh, yeah."

"See," Jamar says.

"My dad lied," Aman grumbles.

A smile entangles my face as I eye Deion, impressed by his courage. As the boys continue trotting along, I let my pace decrease, and Deion slows with me, enough that we won't be heard by the kids in front.

"I like that you're getting more confident," I say.

"Well, I have to if I'm ever gonna get a boyfriend," Deion responds with a smile.

For some obscure reason, that makes me feel twisty like candy vines.

"Oh, yes," I say for lack of a better response.

My brain's functioning ability has been overtaken by the dryness of my mouth. Yet my palms are sweaty, like my body just decided to relocate all its moisture.

"You'll have no problem getting one," I eventually say.

"How do you know?" Deion asks.

"Evidence," I reply.

He laughs. "Can't argue with that."

His smile does something a smile shouldn't be able to do. It strings through my body, capturing it in a magnetic field that pulls my own smile up and implores me to make my accidental hand bumps more frequent. I don't turn it down, and Deion doesn't appear to be against it either. We keep walking, creating sparks with every touch.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

I stand against the wall in the hallway, across from Cara's doorway where Andreas peaks in.

"Do you need anything before going to bed?" he asks.

"No, I'm good," the girl replies.

"Okay. Door open or closed?"

"Closed please."

He does as asked then turns around to look at me. The moment his eyes meet mine, chills flutter down my spine. I don't know how this happens. How can he do this to me? How can a person make another person feel this vulnerable, this open, this exposed? Like, he could unwrap me entirely, and I wouldn't do anything to stop him. I _should_ do something, but I wouldn't. I'm just that weak.

I push myself away from the wall, keeping my arms crossed as a way to try to keep him from puncturing me so hard that I lose my sense of logic. It's nine at night with no parents home, and Andreas is looking at me the way Harry Styles looks at the reader in a One Direction fanfic. I cannot let my guard down right now.

"You're really sweet, you know?" I tell him.

Andreas shrugs. "I only do what anyone should do."

"But that's the thing. Not everyone does do it. But you do."

"I guess."

"You really care about people. And it's kind of amazing."

His eyes drip downward before locking back on mine, and he says in his stupidly attractive voice that falls between a talk and a whisper, which makes it sound a little raspy, "I only care about some people."

"Like your family," I say.

"And others."

 _Others._ "Like...?"

I already know this is a bad idea. I'm pushing for him to give an answer I cannot accept. But although my logical side knows I should shut this down right now, the side that makes my heart trill decides to say screw rationality. It's crying for a specific answer. And I don't know which side I'm rooting for.

"Like my friends," he replies. "Uh, the Postmates delivery guy. People who actually say thank you when I hold the door for them."

"You do that?"

He doesn't respond, but his smile confirms it. And then I have the frickin' nerve to keep pushing. Like, I seriously need to stop. But I can't help it.

"Anyone else?"

His gaze doesn't move from me as he responds, "Well, um, sure. Other people...and you..."

There it is, the answer that makes the temperature dial up a thousand times, makes my muscles go weak, and makes my lungs expand to prepare me for something that can't happen. This cannot happen. That was a stupid thing to ask. I drove myself into a corner, and now he's staring at me, and I could let myself give in to this. But the second one of us messes up, we'll have just broken our families. Like, there are way too many issues with our pairing, way too many things that could go wrong, way too many people who could get caught in the cross-fire of any stupid fight we might have.

Backing up feels like snapping a rope. The tension reduces to a manageable level, but there's still a bundle of butterflies screaming to be let out. I can't do it, though. I may not be the smartest, but I'm not that dumb.

"Well," I say, slicing the loud silence, "I guess I should get going."

I turn around so fast that I almost feel dizzy. After a few steps toward the stairs, Andreas calls out. 

"Wait, Jayda."

 _Okay, you can do this. Just turn around. Turn around and don't make eye contact._ By the time I'm facing where he should he, he's not there anymore. A second later, he comes out of his bedroom holding a colourful circle of beads. He tosses it to me, and when I catch it, I realize they're not normal beads.

"A candy necklace?" I say.

"It's Halloween. You have to have some candy."

I smile and pull the circle over my head, letting it rest on my collarbone.

"Thanks," I say.

His eyes don't let go of me as I make my way toward the stairs, my fingers fidgeting with my necklace while taking each step. Eventually, I get to the front door, and I glance back, seeing Andreas leaning over the stair railing, still looking at me.

I take a deep breath and let it out as I say, "Okay, good night."

"Night."

I peel my gaze off him and open the door, sealing it shut, but it does nothing to crush the desire to be back inside with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next episode will be on Monday August 17. I think you guys will like it ;)


	97. S3 E5.1: Pink Town

**Andreas's POV**

My parents make their breakfast at the island, while I eat the leftover buttered chicken from last night. compared to regular breakfast foods, this is better, and I don't really get why breakfast has to be just cereal or toast. Like, I'd much rather start my day off with this.

"Dad," Brayden says, marching into the kitchen, "what are you plans for the day?"

"Uh, going to work," Dad replies before taking a sip of juice.

Brayden looks to our mom instead, and she answers, "Also work."

"That makes my life severely more difficult," Brayden huffs.

"We make money to pay for you," Dad notes. "That makes it difficult?"

"Indirectly, yes, because that means you can't drive me where I need to go."

"Where would you be going anyway?" I question. "Don't you usually hide in our room all day?"

"I have an errand to run," he responds.

"You could take the bus," Dad suggests.

"I would, except that it's in Didsbury."

"That town an hour away?" I say in surprise. "Why are you going there?"

"I'm not, because I can't get there."

"What were you planning to get?" Mom asks.

"A book," he answers. "But it's irrelevant now, since I can't get it."

"You can't buy it online?" I say.

"It's an original print from the forties," Brayden explains. "The store has a copy, but it's only available in person."

"Well, sorry, bud," Dad says.

"Your apology has negligent effect on the outcome of my emotions," Brayden sighs.

He plops down onto the seat across from me at the table, putting his head in his hand. I don't really understand Brayden most of the time, especially not now. Like, I don't know why anyone would care about driving an hour out of town just for a book, but apparently it means a lot to him. Normally, I would just let him be weepy, but it's too early in the morning to be looking at his glumness. It's kinda annoying actually, and that's what gets me to make my next offer.

"Uh, me and Jayda were going to go somewhere. Don't know where yet, 'cause we were gonna figure that out once we got in the car."

"How swell," Brayden utters. "I do hope you'll have a delightful time."

"Yeah, well, I don't know much about Didsbury," I continue, "but I think Jayda might like it."

Brayden lights like a spark, flinging his head upward, both from happiness and shock.

"Why are you doing this for me?" he wonders.

I shrug. "The more you feel like you owe me, the better."

"Although that response is a bit disturbing, I'm afraid a I'm a thirteen-year-old who cannot drive, so you're my only option. Thank you."

"No problem."

With the plan settled, I take out my phone to let Jayda know what's going on.

 **Me:** Hey, I know where we're going today.

It only takes a minute for her to respond.

 **Jayda:** Where?

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

"Why does she get the front seat?" my brother complains from the backseat.

"You can have no seat at all."

"I see. You like her more than you like me."

"Glad you understand," I snipe.

The sky is pale, tinted yellow from the morning sunshine, but all the sun goes to Jayda like a spotlight as she exits her house. Her black hair ripples in the wind, copying her orchid purple dress that floats as she walks and has straps that tie in a bow over each shoulder. My eyes follow her all the way up to my car, not even blinking until she opens the door and tosses her purse in.

"So Didsbury?" she says. "What made you think of that?"

She pulls the door shut and buckles herself in.

"Well, Brayden needed someone to drive him there," I reply.

Jayda then glances behind me and notices the boy in the back. "Oh, hey."

"Hello," he responds. "Can we get going before it sells?"

I turn the keys in the ignition and start our drive.

"Before what sells?" Jayda asks.

"Some book."

"It's an original print copy of a book called The City and the Pillar," Brayden states, not happy with my answer.

"What's wrong with a copy from, like, today?" Jayda wonders.

"Deion already has that," he says.

"Wait, this is for Deion?" I speak up.

I don't know a ton about Deion, but I do know that Brayden spends way more time with him than anyone else, and he's a level of kind to him that he's never been to, like, anyone. So of course I want to use this opportunity to bug him.

"Yes," Brayden replies so matter-of-factly.

"You're driving an hour out of town to buy a book for him?" I say with a laugh.

"Actually, you're driving."

"Hold up. Is Deion the boy?"

In the rearview mirror, I see his face flood red in an instant.

"I don't know what you're referencing," he lies.

"Back in September, you said there was a boy," I remind him.

"Deion's...Deion's my friend," he defends. "And he likes this book, so I want to get him an original copy."

I nod but keep my grin. Jayda is on the same page as me, giving me a glance before letting me focus back on the road.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

Jonah answers the door to his townhouse with classic Jonah smile, and Walker comes up right after him.

"Hey," Cyrus says. "How are—"

Suddenly, there's a slam, and Cyrus jumps back, looking down at Austen in her little toy car that she just used to crash into Cyrus's leg.

"Has she been taking lessons from Wyatt?" I joke.

But then the girl pushes the car back away from Cyrus and toward me, walking the wheels right over my foot. A surge of pain shoots through me as she passes over, continuing to propel herself around the living room with swings of her feet. I leap onto my unharmed foot, needing to let the pain simmer down in the other.

"Oh, sh—"

"TJ," Cyrus cuts me off.

"Shoot," I finish instead.

Austen laughs loudly and bumps into the back of the couch, making it scrape the floor a bit, before moving on to the next piece of furniture she can run into.

"Sorry, she's been doing that lately," Jonah says with a smile.

"Are you telling her not to?" Cyrus questions.

"She's a baby," Jonah responds.

"She's almost one," Cyrus reminds him. "You can start teaching right from wrong."

"How do we do that?" Jonah wonders. "The only sentence she understands is 'Time for a diaper change.'"

At that, Austen immediately straightens up and starts screaming, her face scrunched up in little baby anger. Walker goes over to pick her up, and she clings onto him, squeezing his shoulders while sobbing.

"No, he was only playing," Walker tells her.

She calms down quickly as Walker bounces her around.

"She understands more than you think," Cyrus says. "She'll start to learn if you stop letting her ram into things."

"We should just put her in a play pen and keep her there," Jonah suggests.

"I'm not sure that's the best way to go," Cyrus responds. "It takes patience raising a baby."

"Yeah," I agree. "Wyatt would climb into the oven every day for months until he finally stopped."

Walker sits Austen back down on her plastic car, and right away she gets back to scooting around the room, crashing into the wall this time, leaving a dent.

Walker sighs. "Cool, so how do we do this?"


	98. S3 E5.2: Pink Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://archiveofourown.org/works/24217156/chapters/new#

**Jayda's POV**

It sounds totally stupid, but this is like television for me. Andreas is looking at the road, but I'm leaning my elbow against the open window ledge, propping up my head as I watch him drive. He combs his hand through his hair after the breeze blows it in his eyes, careful not to separate any of the curls. As he steers around a bend, his arms flex, pressing the veins into sight, making me follow each muscle like a stream to his hands. One grips the steering wheel tight while the other taps on the car door, matching the rhythm of the song playing through the stereo. He doesn't have bluetooth or an AUX input, so in order for him to play music from his phone, he has to link it up to this little device that turns his phone's connection into a radio station that Andreas then has to find on his car stereo. The sound is choppy and staticky like listening to carbonated water, but I still can't decide whether I hate it or love it. The next song that plays is an R & B song. I feel myself slipping into its smooth tune like water in canola oil, and I realize that I've had my mind on this boy for a dangerous amount of time, and I need to find air now before I hit the bottom.

"I don't go out of town that much," I say, just needing to say something.

"Well, you can hardly drive, so I'm glad you don't," Andreas responds with a laugh. "I'd rather not have to pick you up after your car breaks down in the middle of the country."

"You wouldn't do that anyway," I reason.

But then, rather than agree with me, he just tilts his head and shrugs. _He would do that for me._

"No," Brayden cuts in from the back, "if he would drive me to Didsbury, I believe he would pick you up off the side of the highway. He has already proclaimed that he pefers you."

I look at Andreas. That can't be true. I'm just a girl, just me, not someone he should care that much for.

"You don't try to give me history lessons while we drive," Andreas tells me.

"I only tell you the interesting information," Brayden argues.

"Do you think the inventor of the hand-held vegetable peeler is interesting?" Andreas asks me. 

"I don't know," I respond. "Peeling things is pretty important."

"You don't need to peel anything," Andreas denies. "Just eat vegetables with the skin on."

"What about potatoes?" I ask.

"What about them?"

"The skin is gross."

"You can't peel a potato, though. You'd get rid of the best part."

"The outside is not the best part," I state definitively. "It's what's inside that counts."

"That definitely doesn't apply to this," Andreas replies with a chuckle, flickering his eyes between me and the highway.

"I think it does," I insist.

"No. That's for people, not vegetables."

I grin as I continue with my arguement, saying, "You can't cherry pick."

"You may want to Google what that means," Brayden interrupts, "because I assure you you are not using it in the correct context."

"If Brayden says it, then it must be right," Andreas says.

"You're teaming up against me now?" I joke.

"No," Andreas denies. "I'm disagreeing."

"Feels like teaming up."

"Hey, the only team I'm on is yours."

Such a simple statement, yet so loaded. But he shoots it out like a bullet made of foam rather than something that could alter a life. Or make me feel like a spinning maple seed, winding in a way that tickles my insides and makes him the only thing in my sight. I wonder if he meant that to be so big. Then again, I don't see how it could not be. I don't know how he could flick his eyes at me the way he is and not realize how huge that was. He must know. And even though I don't know if he knows, I find myself wanting more of an explanation.

"Since when?" I ask.

Andreas glances over at me, linking his brown eyes with mine for a second before returning forward. But I can feel it now, the density of the air inside this car like everything just tightened and one move can make the entire place whirl.

"I don't know," he responds.

He bites on his bottom lip from the inside like trying to hold something back. I don't know if I want him to hold it in or let it out.

"Oh," I mutter.

"I just..." he takes a pause but doesn't find enough to make it worthwhile "...am."

"Are you sure?" I ask.

He looks at me longer this time. I think we're on the same train of thought. I could be wrong. But It feels like we're both judging the conversation, both trying to read between the breaths, both trying to figure out what it is we're actually talking about. I know what I'm talking about, even though I know it's stupid to bring it up. I shouldn't be asking about this. But I'd like to blame him. He started it. He made me think about it. He's the reason I can't stop thinking about him.

"I don't think I could even pretend not to be," Andreas eventually answers.

"Oh."

I think I'm too terrified to truly accept what I'm nearly certain we're talking about. But I'm basically walking on fire and trying say it's cold.

After a moment, Andreas asks me, "Would you be on my team?"

Brayden leans forward in the backseat, saying, "I'm uncertain as to what we're talking about anymore."

Ignoring him, I respond, my eyes frozen on Andreas, "I don't know. Would you want me on your team?"

"Of course I would," Andreas utters, his eyes giving me a glimmer before hitting the asphalt again. "You're...a really good player."

"I'm really not, though," I counter.

"You really are."

"I'm lost," Brayden says.

We're going too slow. The speed limit is ninety. We're going 80. He's not focused on driving anymore, which may be dangerous, for more than one reason. He's focused on me. Andreas locks onto me until a crack in the road reminds him what he's doing. But he still lingers on me with the corner of his eyes. And it makes my breath fall short. And I might die. And even worse, he might like me. He might actually feel toward me what I feel for him, but this was a bad idea from the beginning. I was dumb to try to just be his friend. This normalcy isn't working. I can't just be normal with him. How he makes me feel is anything but normal. I need to stop this.

I rip my eyes off of him and turn my attention to the fields out my window. I can still see Andreas in the reflection of the glass, but I try to ignore it. 

"How far away is the shop?" I ask.

"Half an hour," Brayden replies.

"Cool," I mumble.

I pull out my phone and stare down at that. Andreas tries to look at me again, but I don't look back. That would be even more reckless than I've already been.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

Cyrus and I sit together on the couch while Jonah and Walker each take a chair, all of us watching their little girl push herself around on her plastic car. It doesn't take long for her to find Cyrus's legs again and ram into them. Cyrus puts his hand on her car after to stop her, and she whips her eyes up to him, confused.

"That hurts," he states. "We don't roll cars into people."

Clearly, Jonah and Walker have never told her not to do anything before, because she just blinks and moves on, this time heading toward Jonah. She slams into his legs, and Jonah smiles, which makes Austen giggle wildly.

"You're encouraging her," Cyrus says.

"She's cute," Jonah justifies.

"Don't laugh," Cyrus instructs.

Jonah presses his lips together, wiping his smile away, and Austen's laughter drops dead.

"Austen, that hurts me when you drive into me," Jonah says.

Puzzled as to why her dad isn't amused anymore, she backs up and tries again at running into Jonah's feet.

Jonah holds his face, saying, "No, thank you."

Unimpressed, Austen scrunches her eyebrows and pivots around, circling the coffee table to try hitting Walker instead. Before she can get to him, he stops the car with his foot and leans down to drag it around to face away from him. Austen begins rolling toward the wall, moving in slower but more abrupt lurches than before.

"That wasn't so hard," Jonah says happily.

"Yeah. Now you just have to do that everyday for the next eighteen years until she moves out," I reply.


	99. S3 E5.3: Pink Town

**Jayda's POV**

Just one more hour to go. In one more hour, I'll be home. I'll be away from Andreas. I won't feel this pulsing current making my body want to be closer to his. I won't see his face every time I blink. I'll be able to hide away and pretend he doesn't exist. Just one more hour.

That means we're here. Didsbury is a small town, about the size of my neighbourhood. The antique book store is the first place we see as we pull off the only paved road and onto the gravel way. The signs that say the name of the roads all look like preschoolers painted them in art class, struck by globs of colour with no clear intention. That makes them a little hard to read, but I bet everyone here knows the street names off by heart anyway.

"Maybe this is too big of a gesture, buying this book for Deion," Brayden suddenly says.

"Brayden," Andreas responds, "we're literally pulling into the parking lot. If you don't get it, you wasted my time, and you'll be walking home."

Rather than get offended, Brayden just unbuckles his seatbelt, saying, "I think that was the nudge I needed. Thank you."

He gets out of the car, and with him not here, that means the only ones remaining are me and Andreas, which makes my heartbeat trill from nervousness. Out of habit, and needing something to keep me occupied, I pull down the car mirror and start fixing my hair, flattening out any kinks.

"You look good," Andreas says. "Stop worrying."

His comment does nothing but make me more stressed. I slap the sun visor back up against the roof and look over at him, but the second I do, I get restless.

"Is it stuffy in here?" I say then whip the car door open.

It closes with a slam behind me, nearly catching the bottom of my dress. I'm relieved to be out in the open air, but it doesn't calm my pulse at all. Instead, the sound of Andreas's door opening only perpetuates it. I close my eyes, but I can hear him as he walks around the vehicle and leans against the metal right next to me, his shoulder grazing mine. _This isn't helping._

"Better?" he asks.

"Not really," I mutter.

I push myself off the car and walk forward, away from Andreas. Being a few metres away now, I slow down, but when I turn around to him, he's stepping closer to me again, and I just wish he would stop.

"Okay, what's up?" he questions.

"Up? Nothing. Nothing's up. Everything's down, actually." My voice sounds frantic. He'd have to be an idiot to not know I'm lying.

Andreas nods slowly. "You've been real quiet since that last conversation about...sports teams."

I cross my arms over my chest, saying, "I'm just not in a talking mood."

"No offence," Andreas says with a smirk, "but I've never seen you in that mood before. What are you not saying?"

"What are _you_ not saying?" I shoot back. "I'm saying everything."

He raises his eyebrows, not believing me at all. "Really?"

"Yeah."

There's a break, and he uses it to be so frickin annoying by glancing down and biting his lip. I frickin hate it. He makes being rational and smart the hardest thing ever. I'm just trying to not screw up our families, and he's over here making me feel like a preteen meeting her favorite boyband. Like, I seriously can't even look at him clearly without letting the pinks of my emotions seep into my vision.

"Jayda," he says softly, "what were we talking about earlier? 'Cause it wasn't sports."

"It was... I don't know. What were you talking about?"

"I don't know either. I thought we might... Because I... I don't know."

"You what?" I ask, my voice chipping away with each second.

He shakes his head. "You don't want to know this."

"Know what?"

"Jayda..." He locks his eyes onto mine and says with a raspy voice on the brink of a whisper, "You know what."

Shit. Shit. Shit. I do know what. I know what, and I know that it cannot happen. This is too much. There are too many problems, too many risks. This is stupid. Plain and simple.

I begin to ask, "Do you...?"

I can't get the rest of the question out, but Andreas's eyes remain on me, giving me the answer.

"But I..." I start in a frail voice, wavering in fear. "We're... We can't..."

"Yeah," he grumbles dully. "No kidding."

He takes a step, turning around to go back to the car, and a bolt of panic leaks out of me, making me talk.

"Andreas, I...I do too."

That—that was stupid.

He gives me a look up and down before finally saying, "Can we say what we're really talking about?"

"You say it first," I order.

I should shut this down, but I want to know too badly. I want to know if it's all in my head.

Andreas hesitates then confesses in a breath, "Yeah. I like you."

I don't know what I was expecting, what I wanted him to say. This just terrifies me. This is too complicated to even touch. But I wanted it, didn't I? I forced it out of him. Now I wish I could shove it back in.

"I'm sorry," I say, shaking my head. "I should've stopped asking questions."

I take a step back, hoping to make this hurt less, but it only gets worse. Andreas doesn't understand, coming in to undo the space I created.

"Jayda, what—?"

"Look, we can't do this," I state, "us. It would make everything way too complicated. I really want it to be different, but it's not, and I...I just don't think it's a good idea."

There. I said it. I stood my ground. Why do I feel like it's sinking?

Andreas only nods. "Okay."

One word. That one word makes all my barrier collapse into dust. I can't believe he's just accepting this. I wanted this right? No. No, I didn't want this. I don't want this. I want him.

"That's it?" I shout. "You're just letting it go?"

"Well, yeah," he responds. "I respect your decision."

No. He can't respect this decision, because this decision is stupid.

"Screw that."

I step up and grab his shirt by the collar, pulling him in to kiss him. The moment our lips touch, my nerves settle down, melting into the slow syrup of the heat surrounding us. His hands find my waist and tug me inward, forcing my body against his so hard that I can feel his pulse latch onto mine. When one kiss ends, he steals another one, wiping my mind clean until I can't remember anything except him.

The real end is like snapping a stick. We both break apart, catching our breath, but my hands remain on his arms. His eyes hold mine, one inside the other, a knot that neither of us know how to untie.

"I like this decision a lot more than your first one," Andreas suddenly says, and it makes me laugh as I back up, letting him go.

"Yeah, me too," I admit.

Not a minute too soon, Brayden comes out from the book store with a hardcover in hand and a smile on his face.

"I got the book," he says. "Let's go home."

He gets in the car, oblivious to what his brother and I were just doing. I'm actually very glad he doesn't know. I'm still not convinced that that would be good. Andreas and I find our own seats in the vehicle, and I buckle up while he starts the engine.

"I really hope Deion likes it." Brayden says.

Andreas backs out of the parking stall and halts. With a quick smile my way, he shifts the gear into drive and heads for the highway.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

Jonah brings a tray of chips and hummus to the kitchen table where TJ, Walker and I are. He places down the plate at the same time as Austen hones in on the table leg and starts driving toward it.

"Let's go the other way," Walker says.

The girl freezes and stares up at him. She scoots forward a little more.

"Austen," Walker says, raising his eyebrows at her.

Then she bumps the table, making it rattle, and Walker manually turns the girl and her car around again.

"No, thank you," he says.

Austen pouts as she wheels away. TJ takes one of the chips Jonah brought and crunches on it while Jonah watches his daughter sadly.

"How do you expect me to be able to look at her sad face?" Jonah says.

"The same way we withstood Jayda's sad face," I reply.

"Was Wyatt the same way?" Walker asks.

"He mostly threw temper tantrums," I respond.

"I know how to handle temper tantrums," Jonah says. "You scream back. Show them who's boss."

"Interesting method," I say, "although I don't believe it's the most well-researched."

"Thanks for this," Walker says as he grabs a chip and dips it in the hummus. "We've had trouble with her trying to unplug things before, so hopefully we'll be able to handle that better."

"Here's you chance," TJ says, nodding toward the wall.

Austen sits on her car, reaching for the outlet where a table lamp is plugged in. Walker stands up immediately and pulls her car away from the outlet.

"No, thank you," he says.

Although successfully steered away from the plug, Austen aims for Jonah's chair, lurching her car toward it. She's about to ram into Jonah's feet when he speaks.

"Austen."

The girl freezes, eyes wide and locked on her dad.

"Poppy?" she says.

"Austen," Jonah repeats.

Austen remains stiff for another second then scrapes her car's plastic wheels across the floor as she spins another way, saying, "No, thank you."

A smile overtakes Jonah, and he looks over and TJ and me proudly.

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

There's been one big outcome from today: any time Brayden wants to go to Didsbury, I'm driving him. Good things happen in Didsbury. I definitely didn't expect to make out with a hot girl there, but it happened, and here she is beside me in the car after having dropped off Brayden at Deion's house. I don't know this neighbourhood at all, so getting home will be an interesting time, but hey, that means more time with Jayda.

"So..." I say as I take a random corner.

Catching me off guard, Jayda says, "I think we should probably not tell anyone, like, at least not yet."

"Okay."

I say okay, though I'm not really sure how I really want to answer. I guess the truth is I don't really care as long as I'm allowed to be with her. It's not like I talk to my family about my relationships anyway, so I don't think I'll be dying to tell them. Jayda clearly cares more than me about keeping this secret, so I'll go along with it.

"Our parents are best friends, practically siblings," Jayda justifies, although she doesn't really need to. "And if anything bad happens with us, that would turn everything into a total mess. That's enough reason for them to not want us to do this."

I swallow as I think about that, feeling my own worries rise up.

"Are _you_ sure you want to do this?" I ask.

Rather than give me an answer, she comes back at me with another question. "Are you trying to talk me out of it?"

"No, I—"

"Then stop questioning it," she snaps. "I like you."

I shut up at that, but a smile finds my face, hanging on while I drive. As I reach a stop sign, my eyes catch hers, and she smiles back. Yeah. I don't care if I have to keep this secret forever. She's worth it.

**Brayden's POV**

Standing on Deion's doorstep feels completely ordinary until the boy opens the door, and I'm flooded with a wave that makes my hands go flimsy as I attempt to hold the book up.

"Hey, Brayden," Deion says with a soft smile.

Apparently this is it. This is the moment I become a lovestruck teen with no brain capacity past what this boy here is saying as he looks at me right now. Even speaking takes an enormous amount of effort to constitute a coherent sentence.

"Hi, I—um—I brought you a gift."

I hold out the book for Deion to see, and his mouth drops.

"No way! How did you get this?"

"It was in a store," I respond. My brain isn't working well enough to give any more details.

"This is incredible. I've been searching for an original copy for forever."

"I know," I say through unsteady breaths.

I step in to hand off the book to my friend, but when he takes it, his fingers accidentally touch mine, and there's a full second where I can't move. An epiphany wallops me instantaneously: I like him. Tremendously. And I'm paralyzed, clueless about what to do now. I can read and describe emotions no problem, but actually acting on them is an entirely different concept, one which I have practically no experience doing. Finally, Deion pulls his hand away from mine, along with the book, but our stares hold on to each other like following fishing line between us.

"Wanna come in?" Deion eventually asks. "I found some more old jazz cassettes I've been waiting to listen to."

I attempt to speak, but I can't manage to form a sentence that doesn't involve me requesting his hand back, so I simply nod and step inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this episode. There was originally going to be a Hazel/Ambi plot here too, but it ended up being way too long, so look forward to some of that in the near future. I love you guys. Next episode is Friday, August 21. Bye!


	100. S3 E6.1: Flame Thrower

**Cyrus's POV**

I've gotten quite comfortable in my new job as a guidance counsellor at Grant High. I assumed I'd see Jayda a lot more often around school than I actually am, but I suppose she probably actively avoids me. Other than her, many of the students have begun to say hi to me in the halls and make conversation. It's a drastic switch from my old job producing films.

"Cyrus," Principal Walter Schroo says as he enters my office, "how are you?"

"Good," I reply while straightening a stack of papers at my desk. "I just finished my last appointment for the day."

"Actually, would you be able to squeeze in one more?"

"I guess so. Who is it?"

"Cayenne Holloway. She pierced her belly button during a science lab, and it's the second time we've had an incident like this with her, so we decided it would be best for her to see you."

I recall one of Jayda's former friends gave herself a tattoo during class once. Why does everyone in this school try to do their own body modifications? How are the teachers not seeing this?

"Bring her in," I say.

"Thanks."

I nod and sit down in my worn-down office chair as the principal motions someone forth, and a girl dressed in all black steps into the room and leans against the doorframe. She chews gum and rolls her heavily-lined eyes. The lightest part of her whole look are the safety pins linking the sleeves of her shirt to the body.

"'Sup," she says.

I smile kindly and gesture to the couch. "Take a seat."

Walter closes the door as Cayenne saunters over to the cushions and drops down onto the couch casually. She puts her black combat boots up on the edge of my desk while folding her arms over her chest, so cool she couldn't be bothered to care about anything. This will certainly be interesting.

"Nice shirt," Cayenne speaks. She nods toward my paisley-patterned button-up.

"Thanks," I respond. "Nice earrings."

"Thanks. I made them."

"Is that a Spotify code?"

She touches one of the striped earrings and grins. "Yeah."

"What song?"

"'Honey,' Kehlani."

I nod, understanding her more already. "I think we're off to a good start."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

It took me a while to teach Deion the rules of cribbage, but even after many failed attempts, he kept insisting we try again. His persistence paid off, for now we're at the kitchen table in my house with the cribbage board between us and our cards piled up. My left hand sits on the table while I ponder my next move, but a tap to my pinky makes me notice Deion's hand sitting right beside mine. His pinky wasn't touching mine before, but now it is. He deliberately did this, and it makes me smile. My heart pounds even harder as his finger slides overtop of mine, resting with his our knuckles overlapped. I can't even think of the game anymore. I'm internally panicking. I flick my eyes up to Deion's, but he looks at his cards, pretending he doesn't notice our pinkies together. I don't question it, for I don't want it to stop.

"Marty, look what came in the mail," my mom announces as she enters the kitchen.

She brings an envelope over to my dad who stands by the island with a bowl of week-old pasta. Dad stares at the paper that Buffy unfolds, then he lets out a chuckle.

"A speeding ticket?" Dang. How much over were you?"

"Excuse me?" Mom scoffs. "It was definitely you."

"Nah. I don't speed...when cops are around."

"Well, it was last week at 4:17 pm," Mom explains. "You were driving the car."

"No. Weren't you talking Cara to karate?" Dad counters.

I give Deion a glance, and I can see that he, too, is just as curious about the actual culprit.

"Look, we share the same bank account," Dad states. "It's both our money anyway."

"But it was only one of us who sped," Mom argues.

"We'll likely have to pause this game," I tell Deion.

"Why?" he wonders.

"You want to figure out who it was?" my dad asks my mom.

Mom turns her head toward me, and I stand up with a sigh.

"I'm on it."

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Austen toddles along, holding Jonah's hand as we enter the fire station. Two big, red trucks greet us, which Austen stares up at in awe, resulting in her tripping over her feet and being saved by Jonah who pulls her arm to keep her upright.

"Wooo wooo!" Austen says, pointing at one of the fire trucks.

"That's right," Jonah responds.

At the back of the station is where the activities are happening. Children of all ages run around, making crafts, playing with toys, and eating food. The older ones learn about fire safety from the fire fighters, one of them being TJ, who leaves his table to come over to us.

"Hey, glad you could make it," TJ says.

"For sure," I respond. "So how often do you guys do this kind of thing?"

"Every now and then. We like to teach kids about fire safety in a fun environment. We also get more money from the government if we do community events."

Suddenly, Austen lets go of Jonah and makes a little explosion with her hands, shouting, "Poof!"

"That's how she says fire," Jonah explains to TJ.

TJ smiles and kneels down to my daughter's level.

"You ready to have some fun?" he asks.

She giggles and nods her head.

"There're the toddlers and babies over there," TJ says, standing back up.

He motions to the area where parents sit with their babies stacking cups, playing with orange and yellow pompom balls, and letting their babies splash their hands in a table of trickling water. All the kids love it. What I've realized about kids since I've had one is that babies are literally entertained by anything. It doesn't matter how boring it is. They'll make it fun.

Jonah and I walk our girl toward the other toddlers her age, and she immediately starts grabbing at the pompoms and throwing them in the air like confetti. It's all going well until she sees the little boy playing next to her and chucks one of the pompoms at his face. It clunks off his forehead, making his eyes go wide, and in less than a second, he bursts into a whine. Austen giggles at the boy's tears and makes her little explosion hands again.

"Poof!"

I give Jonah a concerned look, which he mirrors right back.

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

Jayda and I get to Hazel's house at the same time—totally by coincidence—definitely not because I drove her. Well, that's what we're gonna say to Hazel if she asks. But she doesn't. Auntie Amber's the one who opens the door.

"Oh, hey," she greets. "Don't step on the rug. It might stick to your shoes. We don't know."

"What's wrong with it?" I ask, walking in onto the floor instead.

"Andi spilled glue on it this morning, and it's still not dry, but this glue is supposed to hold anything permanently. Or at least it does for earrings."

"I'm sure they'll come apart," Auntie Andi says as she come over from the kitchen.

"Mhmm, yeah, sure," Auntie Amber mumbles.

I hold out my hand to help Jayda step over the rug to join me inside, and she accepts my gesture, but she lets go when finished, because that's just how it goes. We can hold hands anywhere except with our families. We've only been together for a few days, and so far we've kept this thing a secret pretty well.

"Where's Hazel?" Jayda asks.

"Right here," Hazel replies, coming out of the hall. "Come take a seat."

Andi and Amber return to the left side of kitchen while Jayda and I sit down next to each other across from Hazel at the kitchen table.

"We're just waiting for one more," Hazel says, "but I guess you could get started now." Then the doorbell rings, and Hazel goes over, saying, "That's probably him."

The boy who steps in is Jayda's brother, and Jayda looks at him in confusion.

"How did you get here?" she questions.

"I biked," he answers.

"I could've driven you," Jayda says.

"And contribute to global warming? No, thanks."

Hazel furrows her brows. "Well, actually...okay."

Wyatt finds a chair at the table with us, and Hazel returns to her seat.

"Okay, so basically what this is is I need you guys to take a survey for my psych class," Hazel explains.

"That's it?" Jayda reacts. "Why couldn't you just drop it off at our houses?"

"Because it's twenty-five pages, and I need to watch you while you do it," Hazel replies.

"Can I lie on it?" I ask.

"If you want me to get an F," Hazel answers.

"But nobody's honest on surveys," I argue. "You just click whatever to get it done with."

"I'd very much appreciate it if you wouldn't choose random answers," Hazel says.

Twenty-five pages of my actual concentration? Seems unlikely, but I guess I'll give it a shot.


	101. S3 E6.2: Flame Thrower

**Cyrus's POV**

Cayenne folds her sleeve up one more time to show me the entire blue ring of ink tattooed on her skin.

"This is the blue circle by the airport," she explains proudly.

I look at it, trying to understand why anyone would get that tattooed on their self. That blue ring is a 'modern art' statue that costed more than Shadyside spends on the education system in four years.

"Does that have meaning?" I ask.

"Nah. I did it for the meme."

"What a...choice. So let's talk about the belly button piercing."

She sits back in her seat, rolling her eyes. "I sterilized the safety pin first with one of the burners."

"Well, safety is always a priority," I respond. "I'm not going to ask you why you wanted it. What I'm wondering is why at school? Why not at home?"

"Don't got a home," she answers frankly.

"Where do you go after school?"

"Out."

"Where do you sleep?"

"Wherever I can find a bed."

"So who is your legal guardian?"

"I have foster parents. But they couldn't care less about me. Only keep me for the money."

Now that I have her talking, I stay quiet, using the same trick on her that I use on Jayda when I want her to tell me something. Sure enough, it works, and Cayenne spills like a tipped bottle.

"I'm too difficult for them. Just a problem."

"The problem they have is theirs. It's not yours," I tell her. "You aren't a problem. You are a person."

She nods, chewing on that and her gum while I wait for her to continue again.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Hazel disperses the surveys across the table, and I am instantly overwhelmed by the thickness of the booklet. This is going to take a while.

"So basically I'm surveying to see what are the opinions of teenagers and almost-teenagers regarding love and romance," Hazel explains.

Andreas looks uncomfortable as he glosses over the questions.

"Uh, some of these are...interesting."

"Wildly personal," I add on.

Auntie Andi speaks up from the kitchen, saying, "Please tell me it's all appropriate for Wyatt."

"I'm twelve," my brother snipes. "I'm not a kid anymore."

"But, like, you can still get kids' menus, so you kind of are," Auntie Andi reasons.

"Love is gross anyway," Wyatt mumbles.

"It's fine," Hazel promises her mom. "It's not that personal."

Yeah, okay. Most of these questions look like the kind of shit girls ask during a game of Truth or Dare at a sleepover.

"'How old were you when you had your first crush?'" I read aloud.

I click my pen and write down the number 7. When I finish, Andreas picks up his own pen and starts recording his answer. And I totally don't care what it is, because it doesn't matter. I totally don't care. But, like, there's nothing wrong with taking a look, right? Like, I'm his girlfriend. I'm allowed to know this. And it's not like he's trying to hide it. Of course, if he were hiding it, I would be concerned. It's not that big a deal. It's not. But, like, also it's totally natural for me to wonder this about him.

"Are you trying to peek?" Andreas asks me. 

"It's not a test," I argue. "You can let me see."

He narrows his eyes on me, and I'm getting a little annoyed. Why is he so reluctant to show me?

"This kinda feels like a test now," he mutters.

 _11._ He was eleven.

"Eleven?" I say.

"Do you approve?" he asks jokingly.

I pause before replying, "Yeah," and bring my eyes back to my own page.

While I move on to the next question, I notice Hazel flicking her eyes between Andreas and me, examining the two of us. It makes me nervous, like she can sense that we're hiding something from her.

"Maybe I should've had you do this individually," she says.

 _Right!_ She just thinks I like him. That's why she's looking at us weird. Yeah, no, doing this on our own would've been a much better idea if we weren't a couple. But we are. So there are no secrets here anyway. I hope.

"No, it's fine," Andreas replies.

Hazel turns her eyes to me, raising her eyebrows to ask if I agree.

"It's totally fine," I assure her.

"Are you sure?" she checks.

"Yes."

"I guess I was nine," Wyatt finally answers.

That catches me by surprise.

"Wait, you had a crush?" I say. "Who was it? You never told me."

Wyatt shrugs. "Uh, just a girl. She was kind of annoying, but she gave me Skittles. I don't remember her name or know much else about her."

"Is it just a boy thing to like girls they know nothing about?" I question.

Andreas looks over at me, responding, "I'm hoping not."

His uncertainty makes me more skeptical of him. Like, is he not saying something? Is one of these questions on the survey going to unveil some huge scandal with him? I don't know much about what he did before me, other than that he was a total F-boy.

"You think you know a lot about me?" I ask him.

"A decent amount," he replies.

"What question is this?" Wyatt wonders, searching through his survey booklet.

"None," Hazel snaps. "Can we get back to the survey?"

Andreas and I turn our chins down again and try to answer the next question.

"What's one word to describe how you felt about your first crush?" Hazel reads.

"I don't know," Wyatt says. "Fine. I didn't really feel anything different."

My eyes drift over to Andreas's paper, but soon I realize he's waiting for me to answer first.

"You write first," I tell him.

"This feels like a set-up," he responds.

I roll my eyes. "Just write."

"You write."

"I don't know what I'm gonna write."

"I don't know why you're making such a big deal!" Hazel complains. "My friends just said things like 'good' and 'fuzzy.'"

I finally cave and mark down the first word that comes to me head: floating. Then I glance to Andreas's word: spun. Good spun like a merry-go-round? Or bad spun like feeling dizzy from the flu? I lowkey want it to be the second one—not that there's anything wrong with the first one. He's allowed to have his feelings, especially because it was long before me. It means nothing. Totally nothing.

My eyes link with his, and we both exchange curious looks. Suddenly, I feel his knee graze mine and stay there. It calms me enough to make me smile and focus on the survey again, but I still feel a little—I don't know—jealous. Jealous of whatever girl eleven-year-old Andreas liked. It's stupid, honestly. But I guess I do have a history of being stupid.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

The cars on the TV make the speakers vibrate from the engine bass, which bothers me, since I'm just trying to read my sports magazine, but Marty is enjoying the show.

"Do you think maybe your speeding came from watching these racing shows?" I mention.

"Brayden watches a show about a race, and he wouldn't speed," Marty counters.

"Brayden's thirteen, and that's RuPaul's Drag Race."

"Well, you've always wanted to be faster than everyone," he retorts.

"I'm pregnant," I remind him. "I wouldn't risk a car accident. But you, Mr. 11.5, aren't."

"I'm always holding food while I drive. I wouldn't risk dropping it."

I shake my head, disappointed that we're not getting anywhere, but he just watches his show again.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

"I can't wait 'till I'm eighteen," Cayenne says. "I'm ready to get out of that shit-hole. I'm gonna run away and marry my girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend?" I say. "How long have you been together?"

"Thirteen months," she answers with a lovestruck smile. "We're broke as hell, so we're gonna elope and rent a cottage in a forest or some shit, and she'll bake while I practice my magic."

"That sounds like a wonderful life."

"Yeah. I can't wait."

She sits back, smiling, and I feel content, because I know that Cayenne, although very angsty, is looking forward to life, a blessing that makes this meeting a lot easier. While she rests, her eyes spot the picture frame on my filing cabinet, and she stands up, picking it up.

"Is this you?" she asks.

"Me and my husband," I answer. "We were nineteen there."

She laughs and says, "You looked like a total twink. It's dope."

"Thanks," I say, not sure whether that was a compliment or not.

"If I knew the guidance counsellor was gay, I might've come sooner."

"I know some very good straight guidance counsellors," I reason.

"Didn't the last one leave midday to smoke and play squash? And then join a cult?"

"I wasn't including him in that statement," I respond.

She laughs and sets the photo down before taking a seat again to finish the rest of our appointment. Even without being entirely done yet, I think this has been successful.


	102. S3 E6.3: Flame Thrower

**Walker's POV**

"How are things going over here?" TJ asks.

He comes over to where Jonah and I monitor Austen playing at the water table alongside some other children. She moves her hands through the water, amused by the cool ripples.

"The pompoms weren't for her, so we decided to play with the water instead," Jonah responds.

Austen claps her hands in the shallow stream and giggles at the spray.

"What happened with the pompoms?" TJ wonders.

"She was showing murderous tendencies," Jonah answers.

I quickly hop in to explain, "She threw one at a kid."

"Oh," TJ responds. "Well, at least she's fine now."

He jinxed it. The second after TJ says that, Austen swipes her arm over the table, creating such a wave that it drenches the girl beside her. And Austen laughs, happy to see the other child crying. I pull Austen away from the table and spin her to face me, but she's still laughing wildly.

"No," I snap, and she goes silent. "We don't splash people."

Austen, confused by this denial of her fun, slowly tries to reach for the water table again, but I shake my head.

"Uh-uh."

She drops her hand and scrunches her face. In under a blink, she's bawling, and Jonah and I don't know what to do.

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

"God, how long is this survey?" Amber says as she comes up from downstairs to refill her glass of water for a fifth time.

"Too long," Jayda groans.

"It's almost done, I swear," Hazel promises.

I lean over to Jayda to whisper, "We can get Slurpees after this."

She gives me a faint smile but doesn't say anything.

"Can I come?" Wyatt asks.

"Well, your sister will have to answer that," I say.

"Sure," Jayda says.

"Okay," Hazel cuts back in, "how old were you when you had your first kiss?"

Jayda snaps her eyes to me. Every answer I write, she's been examining silently. It's starting to worry me, because I couldn't care less about what she did before me, but she seems to be obsessed with what I've done.

"Kissing is weird," Wyatt mumbles. "Mouths are for eating."

I smirk, muttering, "Yeah, they do that too."

That gets me a nudge from Jayda and a disapproving look.

"What?" I huff.

She ignores my question, looking down at her page, so I do the same, scribbling my answer. Before she can read mine out, I read hers.

"Twelve?"

"Fourteen?" Jayda combats.

"Are you judging me?"

"Are you judging _me_?" she shoots back.

"I should've established that this is a judgement-free zone," Hazel states.

"I'm hungry," Wyatt says. "Do you have food?"

"Come here," Amber says, waving him into the kitchen. "We have veggies in the fridge."

"Gross, but okay."

Wyatt goes over to his aunt, leaving Jayda and me with just Hazel and whatever weird tension Jayda is trying to make by eyeing my paper.

"Okay," Hazel says in a breath. "Next question. How many people have you kissed?"

We both write our answers, and when I'm done mine, Jayda glances over and furrows her brows. 

"Not the number of kisses," she tells me. "The number of people."

"I know," I respond.

"Twenty-six?" she reads in shock.

I shrug, but her shock turns into a scowl as she focuses down on her survey again. This is the angriest I've seen her yet today, and I don't get it at all. All I'm doing is answering Hazel's stupid survey, and now Jayda's mad. I should've lied.

"You good?" I ask Jayda.

"Yes," she huffs. "I don't know."

"I think you do know," I press.

"Why can't you believe me?" she snaps.

"Because you're not telling the truth."

She glares at me for a long, thorny moment before she stands up out of her chair and orders, "Come."

Completely lost on what's going on, I follow her into Andi's studio where Jayda closes the door, giving us a private space for whatever she's going to say. Arms crossed, she looks at me, waiting for something, but I don't know what.

"So..." I start.

"Twenty-six?" she blurts.

"Yeah. What about it?"

"You've kissed twenty-six girls before me?"

"Well, actually, one was a dude, but that was weird—"

"Still! Twenty-six!"

"So?" I ask, not understanding the issue.

"So?" she scoffs. "What the hell!"

"Jayda, you've kissed people too."

"Nine," she states.

"And some would say that's also a lot."

She lets out a huff and tightens her arms over her chest, then repeats, "But, like...twenty-six."

I get it now. I mean, I wouldn't be mad about it, but I get the problem. Either she's insecure or she hates the other girls. Or maybe she hates the other girls because she's insecure. But I don't know why she'd be insecure. She's the most amazing girl I've ever met.

"So you're not the only girl I've been with," I say. "You can't be mad at me for having a past."

"I'm not," she says. "I'm not trying to be. I'm just...processing."

I take a step closer to her, biting my lip before saying gently, "Jayda, I've kissed a lot of girls."

"No kidding," she mumbles.

"But the only one I want to kiss now is you."

She flutters her eyes up to mine then smiles. Her arms unfold as I tilt her chin upward and press my lips to hers. The truth of the matter is I'd trade the twenty-five others for one kiss with her, just to have her electricity oscillating through me like thunder through the clouds. She's a lot like thunder—loud, bold, and enough to shake the ground in one touch. Of course, in this scenario, I'm the ground, and she has me rattling, absorbing every bit of her energy.

Turns out it's hard to hear a knock behind the thunder, because neither of us react in time to split apart when Hazel comes barging into the room. Hazel's mouth drops as Jayda turns beat red.

"Oh, shit," Hazel says. "Was this me, or did you do this on your own?

Jayda and I share a glance. I don't want to say more than Jayda's comfortable with, so I let her take the reigns.

"Um, we're kind of...a thing," Jayda confesses.

"Yeah, I can see that," Hazel responds.

"But you can't tell anyone," Jayda goes on.

"A secret romance?" Hazel concludes with a grin.

"I'm not sure how our families would react," Jayda explains.

"Okay, makes sense," Hazel agrees, "but why didn't you tell me? Seriously, what the hell? I've literally been listening to both of you cry over each other for months, and you don't even have the courtesy to say that you finally got together?"

I look to Jayda again, this time both of us blushing.

"Sorry," I say to Hazel. "If it helps, you'll be the first to know about the breakup."

Jayda shoots me an upset look, and I laugh.

"I'm joking," I say.

"Good," she replies, "'cause I'd literally kill you otherwise."

"Damn, well, breaking up is definitely off the table now."

She rolls her eyes. "God, you're so annoying."

I give her a wry grin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she holds, unswayed.

I reach for her hand and lock mine through, rubbing my thumb over her palm.

"Yeah?" I repeat again.

With a sigh comes another eye-roll as she backs down.

"Wow," Hazel utters. "This is adorable. But, um, I have a psyc project to finish..."

"Right," Jayda says.

Hazel steps through the doorway into the hall, and Jayda goes to follow her. Once Hazel is gone, I grab Jayda's hand again and pull her back to me, kissing her another time. Although taken by surprise, she melts like butter into the action instantaneously.

"Can you save that for later?" comes Hazel's voice as she peers back into the room. "I don't have all night."

I release Jayda, the two of us smiling like sugar, and actually listen to Hazel this time.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Having ruled out any play that takes place near other kids, Austen now sits on the ground, fiddling with a single cup. Jonah and I sit facing her, making sure she doesn't do anything to hurt anyone else. At one point, she raises the cup and starts winding her arm back like she's about to throw it, but before she can do that, Jonah speaks up.

"Uh-uh."

Austen freezes, her big eyes on Jonah.

"Uh-uh?" she echoes.

"Yeah," Jonah confirms.

She lifts her arm higher. "Yeah?"

"No!" Jonah stops her.

"No," our daughter pouts, and she drops the cup down with a clink.

All of a sudden, a pompom flies through the air and lands right between her legs. Immediately, she tries to grab it, but Jonah snatches it away from her. That causes Austen to break into tears, and Jonah lets go of the pompom in anger.

"Fine!" he huffs.

Austen grasps onto the pompom, but rather than throw it, she stands up and toddles over to the little boy who had tossed the pompom our way, and she holds it out for him. He smiles at Austen, and Jonah makes the same face, saying, "Awww."

Right when the boy reaches to take it, Austen has a change of heart and chucks the pompom at him instead, making him sob and her giggle.

"I'll get Cyrus to give you a book on this," TJ says as he passes by.

"That would be appreciated," I respond.

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

I see Buffy already in the kitchen as I enter in. She pauses her fridge browsing to give me a look as I grab a glass from the cupboard.

"Marty," she says coldly before returning her eyes ahead.

"What is this? What are we doing?" I question.

"I don't want to get too attached to the person whom I'm going to win against," she states.

"You don't want to get too attached? Well, shit, you weren't thinking about that last night," I tease.

She folds her arms, responding, "Well, I will be tonight."

"Damn. I guess I did that to myself. Look, I don't really care who got the ticket. Can we just forget about it?"

"We'll still have to pay it," she says.

"Then maybe it was neither of us."

"We're the only ones who drive the car."

"True, but I have a compromise."

She narrows her eyes. "Go on."

"Okay, hear me out: We blame Andreas."

"He doesn't drive our car."

"Ah, true, but on November 24 at 4:00 pm, he did."

Is that true? No, definitely not. Do I care? Definitely not. Thankfully, Buffy is convinced.

"Sounds plausible," she says with a smile.

"Awesome."

She steps up and kisses me delicately on the lips, and I suddenly feel like a genius for suggesting the solution I did.

"We solved it," Brayden says from the entryway to the kitchen.

Buffy and I both turn to face him and Deion, but we give each other a glance, signalling that we're on the same page.

"Actually, we changed our minds," Buffy says. "We don't want to know anymore."

"We searched through calendars and location histories for you to change your mind?" our son complains.

"Yeah, pretty much," I respond. "But thanks. There's ten dollars on the counter. Go buy yourselves Slurpees."

"Slurpees don't give back my time," Brayden replies grumpily.

Deion just grabs the bill and throws his arm over Brayden's shoulders, guiding him toward the front door, saying, "Come on."

Brayden lets Deion take control, complying without resistance and forgetting that he's supposed to be annoyed.

"Alright," he agrees with a shy smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next episode is on Monday. Love you guys! Bye!


	103. S3 E7.1: Classic

**TJ's POV**

I drop my keys on the kitchen counter, and they clink loud enough to make Cyrus flinch while he sits with a book at the island.

"That was loud," Cyrus says.

"Jayda left the gas tank empty," I explain, annoyed, which makes Cyrus frown and set down his book as I continue. "I got in and immediately had to get gas. I ended up late for work because of her."

"We've told her to fill the gas tank."

"I know, and she doesn't listen."

"So maybe...no car," Cyrus suggests.

"I agree." I pause for a moment before realizing, "Does that mean we have to drive her around though?"

"No, she can take the bus."

"Jayda on a bus?" I almost laugh at the thought.

"Or she can get one of her friends to drive her places."

I nod. "I know she'll hate it, but I don't see another option."

"She needs to help us out if she wants to use the car," Cyrus agrees.

All of a sudden, our daughter comes around the corner in a blur, her ponytail whipping my back as she grabs my keys off the counter.

"Hey, dads, I'm taking the car later."

I snatch the keys from her grip, saying, "Nope."

She gasps, caught completely off guard. After all, we never say no to her taking the car. Well, now we're starting.

"Jayda," Cyrus says, "you left the tank empty yesterday, and your father ended up late to work, because he had to stop for gas."

Jayda folds her arms as she sasses back, "Maybe Papa should be more proactive and leave earlier."

"No car," I state bluntly. "We've told you countless times to refill the gas."

"I was going to refill it last night, I swear!" she argues.

"So why didn't you?"

"Because when I was driving home, I saw a crow fly past me, and after that kind of bad omen, I really wasn't feeling comfortable."

Cyrus and I both share an exasperated glance, although his is a lot less irritated than mine.

"No car," I say again.

"What?" my daughter freaks.

"Should I repeat myself?"

"Ugh!" she groans. "You guys are so mean!" Then she stomps out of the kitchen.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

"Delivery for little Talia Driscoll!" Jonah announces as he barges through the front door.

He and Walker come in smiling, carrying a clunky bag into the kitchen where Marty and I sit at the table.

"That's not their name," I state.

Jonah just shrugs. "Whatever."

Jonah drops the bag onto the table with a smack then unzips it and begins unpacking. Walker helps his husband pull out all the cardboard and fabric storybooks which look like Austen must have chewed on them based on all the bite imprints, along with some newer-looking ones.

"We have all kinds of children's books," Walker says. "We have one about a bear who liked apples. Another about a turtle trying to cross a river and learning to swim. And this one about purple horse with a good message and subtle hints to racism."

"Cool," Marty responds, "but, um, we didn't ask for more books."

"No," Jonah agrees, "but we learned a lot about parenting and thought more books would be good for Talia."

"Not their name," I repeat."

"Reading makes babies smarter," Jonah insists. Especially if you read to them in the womb."

"Is that proven?" I question.

"I hear playing Mozart helps too," Jonah goes on without answering my question.

I look over to Walker instead, and he just says, "I don't know. He believes it," nodding toward his husband.

"Maybe we should've played that when you were pregnant with Andreas," Marty says.

"No, that's dumb," I reply.

"There have been studies," Jonah presses.

"What studies?" I scoff.

"Science ones."

"Sounds legit," Marty accepts.

I roll my eyes as I stand up to go, muttering, "Oh my gosh."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

I pull the bed covers over my stomach and do my best to get as comfortable as I can against my pillow.

"You coming to bed?" I ask.

"Yeah," Marty responds, still standing with his phone in his hands. "Just getting some nighttime music going."

I furrow my brows. "Nighttime music?"

"It helps me sleep."

What a lie. I see through it the instant he turns on the classical tune and tries to leave it playing on the dresser.

"This better not be Mozart," I say.

"No."

It obviously is. Jonah's fake parenting tips have apparently gotten into Marty's head, and honestly I'm just annoyed with it.

"Then what is it?" I question.

"Eminem."

I give him a glare and order, "Turn it off."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

I glance over as Marty turns the corner into the kitchen and approaches me at the island with a smile.

"Guess what I have."

"If it's more Mozart CDs, I'm gonna be mad," I tell him.

"No. I have reservations at Red Lobster."

"Oh, wow," I say in joyful surprise. "You're willing to spend that much money for dinner? When are the reservations for?"

"Tomorrow," he answers with a smile. "And they're just for us."

"What about the kids?"

"Andreas can watch Cara."

Immediately when Marty makes the suggestion, Andreas comes past the kitchen to shut it down, saying, "Uh, no. I have plans."

"You can't cancel them?" Marty asks, even though we both know that's a pointless question.

"Nope," Andreas replies.

"We can ask Jayda," I recommend.

That makes Andreas backtrack his steps to say, "Jayda's busy."

"How do you know that?" I wonder.

My son goes still for a second before replying, "Uh, psychic. Get Brayden to watch Cara. He's old enough."

"Oh, yeah. I guess so," I agree. "Does he have plans?"

That makes Andreas laughs, but he quiets when he realizes he's the only one. "Oh, you weren't kidding. Yeah, no, he's probably just planning on reading or something."

"Perfect," Marty responds. "Brayden can watch Cara."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

I was quite surprised when I found out I had been taxed with the responsibility of watching my younger sibling. My parents have never put me in charge of her before. But she's eight, so it's really not that difficult. The hardest part is simply finding a place peaceful enough to read without being disturbed. I flip a page in my book while lying on the living room couch, letting the yellow lamps brighten up the evening. My brother it yet to leave the house, meaning his bedroom window is open and letting in a chilly winter draft. It makes me need to curl up in a quilt like a spring roll. However, it's still one of the warmer nights, the air not cold enough to turn the damp drizzle into ice.

An interruption comes in the form of the loud voice of my sister leaning over the top of the couch. Her ringleted hair dangles down, creating a shadow on the fabric cushion.

"I need something of you," she states.

Without looking up, I retort, "I need you to let me read."

"I will, but I need your help first."

Letting out a heavy breath, I bring my book into my lap, responding, "With what?"

She answers with a question: "You can dye hair with Kool-Aid right?"

My expression turns to puzzlement as her wide eyes look back at me hopefully.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Brayden answers his house door with a look of relief. I toss my yellow knit cardigan and white purse onto the closest chair and remove my shoes as I fix my hair that got rattled in the wind.

"Okay, why did you need me?" I question.

"Cara's going crazy, and I needed someone to relate to her on a personal level," Brayden explains.

"I'm insulted, but I'm more worried about her. Where is she?"

My cousin points to the kitchen frantically, and I march toward it. As I walk, I'm mentally preparing all the notes I can recall on the bizarre things near-pre-teens do and how to respond to them. She could be refusing to do her homework or in a fight with her friends or trying to wear no socks with shoes, which is lowkey kinda gross. The reality of what's going on is way off what I expected, and it's a lot less troubling too. Cara stands on a chair with her head over the kitchen sink and her dark hair soaked from being dipped into a bowl of coloured liquid, which I would guess is Kool-Aid based on the empty packets lying around.

"Are you trying to dye your hair?"I say.

Cara spins to see me, flinging the liquid in a splatter across the cabinets.

"Yes," she admits, "but it's not working."

"No kidding," I respond, picking up one of the Kool-Aid packets to give it a glance before setting it back down. "You have dark brown hair, and that's a children's beverage. You need real hair dye. Why do you even want to dye your hair?"

"I need a change," she huffs.

"A change from what?"

"From...this." She motions over herself, and it takes me a minute to understand.

"From you?"

"No, not me, but..." She tries frantically to find the words but ends up saying the same one as before "...this. I don't know. I just... I want to dye my hair."

I know Brayden called me to put a stop to this. But here's the thing: Cara's been a bit off for a while now, and if she wants to dye her hair, yes, that won't solve the problem, but it won't hurt it. I know enough people who dye their hair regularly, and it only helps them find some temporary joy with a colourful new look. It's temporary, but it's not going to hurt. And maybe I could be reading this all wrong—although I don't think I am—and she could just be an eight-year-old who likes colourful hair. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that Cara wants to dye her hair, and unlike Brayden, I'm actually so down for this.

"If your mom asks, I was never here," I tell her.

That sends shock over Cara's face. "You're gonna help me?"

"I have a few friends who know some stuff about dying hair."

She smiles a wide gum-showing smile and hops down off the chair.


	104. S3 E7.2: Classic

**Hazel's POV**

Brayden is shaking his head as Fatima and Aimée enter the house, Aimée with a bag full of hair products. Cara's eyes glow wide as she admires Aimée's pink hair. Brayden is, of course, not impressed.

"I can't believe you," he mutters to me. "I wanted you to stop her, not bring in reinforcements to encourage her."

"Are these your friends?" Cara asks me.

"Yeah," I respond.

"Okay," Aimée says, bringing the bag over to Cara to peek into. "I've got yellow, orange, green, and pink."

"Are you going to dye it for me?" Cara wonders.

"No, Fatima will," I answer for Aimée.

Cara looks up at Fatima, clearly trying to process my statement as she scans Fatima's embroidered, olive green hijab.

"But..." Cara starts "...she doesn't..."

"She did my hair," Aimée explains.

"Oh," Cara responds and looks to me. "Then what are you useful for?"

"Ouch," I say, folding my arms. "I happened to bring these people here."

"Fair enough," my cousin responds then turns to Aimée again. "Do you have blue?"

"I don't," Aimée answers with a frown.

Cara sulks for a second before asking, "Can we get blue?"

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

I finish dabbing the highlighter onto my cheekbones then have to choose between the two dresses that I laid out earlier. One is a basic emerald dress with a sweetheart neck, while the other is a gold slip dress with a notch at the bottom. Matching the sparkle, I choose the second option and pull it on. Before I can get the bottom straightened out, I hear my phone ring, and I have to rush to fix my dress and put the phone on speaker.

"Hey," I say, "I'm almost ready, I promise. Just give me, like, twenty-five more minutes."

"About that," Andreas's voice comes through, "I can't pick you up."

"Why not?"

"Kinda popped a tire," he responds. "And three more."

"You popped all your tires? What the hell were you doing?"

"Don't worry about that. But can you drive?"

I totally would be able to if my dads weren't being so stubborn.

"My dads took away my car privileges," I say.

"What did you do?"

"Apparently, I leave the gas tank empty all the time. In other words, they hate me."

"Well, how are we gonna get there?"

Interrupting him comes another beep, and I look down to see a call from Hazel.

"Hold on," I say. "I'm getting another call."

I click answer, and the line connects me to her.

"What's up, girly?" I ask.

"Hey, can you do me a favour?" Hazel says.

I pick up my brush to begin doing my hair while I talk. "Depends on what it is."

"Can you buy some blue hair dye?"

"Absolutely not," I scoff. "Blue on you would be gross."

"It's not for me," Hazel clarifies. "It's for Cara."

That makes me pause my brushing.

"Cara's dying her hair? And you're helping her?"

"I know what it's like to need to feel like yourself so bad that you just need to change something," she rationalizes.

"Well, I would totally help you, but I don't have a car." Then I have an epiphany. "Wait. Actually, sure, whatever."

"Yeah? Thank you—"

"Yeah, great."

I hang up, cutting off her next breath, then scurry down the stairs to find my dads in the kitchen together.

"Dads, here's the situation. Hazel desperately needs me to pick up something for her, so I need to take the car."

Papa doesn't even take a minute to think before responding with, "No."

I let out a huff of annoyance, and Daddy steps around the island to get closer, a little more open to my request.

"What does she need?" he asks.

I try to come up with something on the spot, but I'm not good at quick thinking.

"Pencil sharpener...'cause all her pencils are broken."

Papa raises his eyebrows and repeats himself. "No."

"I'm trying to be selfless here and do something for my cousin!" I whine. "I'll fill the gas! Just let me take the car!" A moment later, having calmed down, I remember something I forgot and say it. "Please."

Papa gives Daddy a glance, and Daddy tilts his head, his eyes soft. Seeing this, Papa lets out a sigh.

"If there isn't gas when you bring it back, you're walking everywhere for the next year," Papa says.

"Yay!" I squeak. "Thank you, Papa!"

Smiling happily, I swipe the keys from the counter.

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

The headlights of the cars around us blaze over Jayda's skin before vanishing in seconds. Watching Jayda drive is its own kind of visual. Even when she knows where she's going, she looks like she doesn't, changing lanes at the last minute, and going at whatever speeed her heart desires. This could be because her speedometer is in kilometres, and I'm not sure she even knows how to read it. But she's gorgeous. As usual. Her dress sparkles like her cheeks, like some kind of goddess.

"So how far away is this store?" I ask, checking the time again.

"Oh my God. We've been driving for six minutes, and you've already asked that, like, four times. Will you chill?"

"I just want to get to our date," I say.

"Yeah, but Cara needs hair dye first."

"I don't know why she even wants to dye her hair."

"Me neither, but I support it."

"I don't really care."

"She's your sister," Jayda presses. "You should care."

"I care about her. Just not about her hair."

"But you care about getting this over with so we can go out," she summarizes.

"Okay, fine. I'll admit it. I like you more than Cara's hair."

I glance at her with a grin, and she rolls her eyes, stealing her gaze away from me. All of a sudden, the foggy evening flickers, and thunder rolls across the sky. Jayda is unfazed by the noise, continuing down the highway. This road is two lanes and on the edge of town. It's a ring road around Shadyside, supposedly the easiest way to get to another corner, but it's not especially busy at all. just a couple cars every few minutes coming down the other side and a few behind us.

"We'll still get to the restaurant," Jayda says, continuing our conversation regardless of the change in weather. "We just need to get blue dye for her and drop it off first."

"Yeah, yeah."

She looks annoyed, so I decide to ease up on my teasing, but then I start to notice how many cars are zipping by us, and I check the dashboard curiously.

"You're going, like, half the speed limit," I say.

She rolls her eyes, not bothering to look at the speedometer.

"Seriously, Jayda. Why are we slowing down?"

Now Jayda finally realizes that the needle is gradually dropping, and she stares at it, confused.

"I have no idea," she replies.

She steps on the gas, but nothing changes. The reason comes clear when I check the other needle on the dashboard.

"Aw, shit," I mutter.

"What?" Jayda wonders.

"You're out of gas."

"No way."

The car just keeps slowing until it's barely rolling, and Jayda pulls off onto the shoulder of the highway where the vehicle sputters to a stop. 

"Shit," she breathes. "What do I do now?"

"Well, start by turning your hazard lights on."

Jayda punches the triangle button on the car with her thumb then sits back again in her chair, her stress flooding out of her.

"I can't believe this," she says.

"Yeah," I say with a chuckle. "Now I get why your dads took the car away from you."

I guess that was too far, because Jayda shoots me a glare and retorts, "I really don't need your asshole comments right now."

"Okay, chill."

She rolls her eyes and whips her car door open to get out away from me, and it stings like vodka in a gunshot wound. I didn't mean to make her mad, and now I do feel like an asshole, but I don't wanna be, not to her. I push the passenger door open and walk around the car to where she's standing with her arms crossed anxiously and her hands tucked behind the sleeves of her tan trench coat.

"Hey, relax," I say. "We'll just need to push it."

"I am not pushing it," she immediately rebuts.

"Then we could get it towed," I suggest.

"Uh, I'm broke as hell. Try again."

"Then I don't know."

"That's stupid," she states. "You have to know."

"I don't know," I repeat.

Now I can see her boiling over. Tears speckle her eyelashes as she shivers from the cool air. I'm sure the deep crackling of thunder isn't helping her nerves either.

"Yes, you do!" she suddenly shouts. "Because I don't know! You're supposed to know how to fix things I don't!"

I don't know how to fix this. I just don't. But she's relying on me, and letting her down is about the worst thing I could feel. And yet, I don't know how to not let her down. Maybe I can't fix the problem, but I can at least try to stop her stress. So I take a shot in the dark and try something. I reach for her hand with one of mine then step in and put my other hand on her jaw as I kiss her. In an instant, she turns from ice to water, falling into the flow of our connection. I only intended to give her one kiss, but when I back away, she turns her brows down, upset with the action, then corrects my mistake, pulling me back to her, kissing me harder this time like an elastic band giving in to the tension.

When lightning flashes again, this time dropping a mountain of rain with it onto us, any rational person would stop. They would search for cover to keep from being drenched in the downpour. Hazel told me once that that's a natural survival instinct. That it's in the human's biology to want to hide from the rain. I have a survival instinct, for sure, but it's not to get out of the rain. It's to get as close to Jayda as possible. I have priorities, and she's always at the top.

Quickly, her coat becomes too much of a barrier, and we both work together to slide it off of her and toss it onto the roof of her car. I'm pretty sure it should be cold, but we're burning like Venus, stirring up our own skies of smoke, fuelled by each other. When she throws her arms over my neck, I lift her onto my hips, hugging her dress against my T-shirt. After a moment, I place her down onto the hood of the car, but she finds my lips again, and suddenly I realize my pulse has lined up with the patter of raindrops on the road. It's like we've melted into the atmosphere entirely. Our sopping wet clothing clings to our skin, but neither of us care, because we're more than the rain. We're also definitely not gonna make it to the restaurant in time, but you know, I'm okay with that.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

**Me:** Where are you?

Jayda doesn't even read my text. Is it seriously too much to ask her to just drop off some hair dye? I go back into the bathroom where Cara, Fatima and Aimée are clustered around the bath tub. It's the downstairs bathroom, which is the larger one. The tiles are stone, and the mirror stretches across the entire countertop that spans the whole blue wall. We have towels, tools, and gloves ready. All we need is the dye.

"Is Jayda coming?" Cara asks me.

"I don't know," I respond dimly. "You might not be able to get the blue."

"That's okay," Cara says. "I thought about it, and blue is what everyone does. I think I want yellow."

That earns a cheer from Aimée as she says, "Oh, heck yes! Nobody ever wants the yellow!"

Fatima picks up a box of hair bleach and opens it up.

"Let's get started," she says.


	105. S3 E7.3: Classic

**Brayden's POV**

I pretend I don't know what's happening downstairs while I read my book in the living room. If I don't know anything, then I can blame everything on Hazel for being irresponsible and not me. Honestly, it wouldn't be the end of the world if my parents blamed me anyway, because then I probably wouldn't have to babysit her and her peculiar impulse decisions again. She truly is a strange child. Most kids wait until their teen years to start the rebellious hair dying, but she's always been what one would say unique, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

"I think you're gonna like it," comes Hazel's voice as she ascends the stairs and plops down on the chair beside my couch, "Cara's hair."

"I've never had an opinion on her hair. I doubt that will change."

"I think she's trying to find herself," Hazel goes on. "I think she'll be happy with this."

Realizing that Hazel actually wants to converse with me, I lower my book to give her my attention. I don't talk to Hazel too often, but of all my cousins, she's the most bearable. The other options are of course a hyperactive tween, a self-absorbed seventeen-year-old, or a literal baby, so Hazel doesn't have to do much for her spot.

"I don't know," I say. "I always thought I knew her without the hair dye."

"Maybe we don't," Hazel responds. "Maybe even she doesn't. This is probably just the first step to figuring out the rest.

"Yeah, I can understand that."

To say that one can figure their self out is an interesting suggestion. That implies that the person is pre-established, something that can be uncovered like an artifact. In actuality, I wonder if the person is more like a building. We don't need to figure ourselves out. We simply need to create ourselves. I like to believe that, but then I end up back in places like where I am now that I'm not distracted by my novel, now that I'm being forced to think about myself again, the way I've been thinking so hard lately. The topic: Deion. It's hilarious actually. My mind is hung up on a boy, a boy that makes me feel things and view things and experience things in new ways. The newness of it all has been quite tolling for me. I thought I had it all sorted when I said I was gay, but I suppose there's no limit on just how different one can be.

Noticing my face, Hazel pushes for me to continue, saying, "Say more."

"No," I reply, shaking me head. "I don't share my feelings."

"I'm aware."

That strikes me silent. Am I that mysterious? That unapproachable? Perhaps I should try to open up to someone, and Hazel is probably the best candidate for that. It takes some internal convincing, but I eventually get my mouth to speak.

"It's Deion. Or me. But also him."

I pause, and Hazel just waits for me to finish, because, although the sentence is over, I'm clearly not finished.

"I've concluded that I'm demisexual," I reveal.

She provides no judgement, so I continue.

"I'm not entirely sure about it. But there's a way I feel about one person that I've never felt with anyone else."

"Deion?" she guesses as though it's not obvious.

I nod. "It's this thing where I just think of him differently, and I'm drawn to him in a way I'm not with others. I could be completely wrong. I am only thirteen."

"You're allowed to be wrong," Hazel speaks up. "You can have this label now. That doesn't mean you can't change it."

I've never thought of that. Now I understand why Hazel gets herself involved in other people's lives so often: because she's good at it.

"Thank you for saying that," I say.

She gives me a gentle smile, and I feel the rest of my hidden words unravel.

"I just really like him," I tell her.

Before she can respond to that, Cara bounces up the stairs and runs toward us, beaming like a neon sun with her yellow curls as the rays. Fatima and Aimée come up after her, both smiling proudly.

"Guys!" Cara shouts before giving us a spin.

"Cara, you look incredible!" Hazel gasps. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," she replies.

"It hurts my eyes a little, but I like it too," I say.

Cara says to Hazel, "You're the best cousin ever."

My sister leans down and squeezes Hazel in a hug.

"Thank you," Hazel says as Cara backs up. "If you ever want my help with anything ever, just ask."

For a moment, Cara looks at Hazel like she's about to talk, but she never gets it out, and she instead ends with, "Thank you."

Hazel and I both seem to have noticed Cara's hesitation, because Hazel squints a little as she checks with Cara, asking, "You heard that?"

"Yeah, I heard that," Cara responds gently.

She purses her lips while her eyes start to glisten, either from joy or something else. But either way, she doesn't tell us what.

"Thanks," she says again.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

I let the sounds of the road soothe me as I rest my head on the seat belt and close my eyes. I guess Marty must think I fell asleep, because I hear him reach for the radio and switch the station. Mozart.

"Switch it back," I order.

Marty sighs and does as asked while he continues to drive. When we get to our house and pull into the driveway, I don't even need a full second to see that the flowers that line the left side of the driveway have been flattened down.

"The flowers are squished," I say.

"Was Jayda here?" Marty wonders.

Both of us get out of the car and enter our house through the garage, and I expect to see more things wrong with our home, but all I'm met with is the sight of my son walking through the kitchen with his tea mug, which he spills while looking over at us.

"Oh, drat," he mumbles.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Yes. I just spilt tea on my hand."

I nod and gaze around at the rest of the space. "What did you do while we were out?"

"Oh, nothing. Just reading."

"What about Cara?"

"Uh..." That gets him flustered in an instant, and he almost spills his tea again. "I'm going to be honest with you. I do not know how best to respond to that question."

I'm both confused and concerned for about half a minute until the very girl comes prancing into the kitchen. She freezes when she sees us, and Marty's jaw and mine fall to the floor. Her once dark brown hair is now bright yellow.

"Cara, what did you do?" I say.

Innocently, she clasps her hands together and asks, "With what?"

"Did you fall into a highlighter factory?" I question.

"No," she huffs. "I dyed it."

"With what? How?"

"I had help."

I whip my eyes to Brayden, but he instantly defends himself, saying, "It was Hazel."

"Hazel?" I echo. "Why would she help you dye your hair?"

"Because she understands me!" Cara shouts, clenching her fists in anger.

"We understand you," I tell her, "but not this. You should ask before you do things like this."

I look over at Marty for support, but he instead says, "I think it looks cool."

"Andreas said it was dope," Cara says.

"Cara," I say in a tired breath, "why?"

"I'm not a baby who needs to ask you for permission for everything I do!" she yells.

"No, but for this you do."

"Well, too bad! I did it!"

She jets off toward the stairs, and I try to call her name, but she ignores me. Marty and I take off after her, chasing the girl up to her bedroom where she slams the door on us. I'm about to burst in when Marty steps in front of me.

"Maybe let me talk," he says.

"Excuse me?"

"You're kinda angry right now. She's not going to respond well to that."

Although annoyed, he has a point.

"Fine," I huff.

Marty opens the door slowly and peeks his head in. When Cara doesn't object, he enters and makes his way over to sit down next to her on her bed. She has her red lava lamp turned on as the only light source, casting a red and orange glow on her tiny animal statues and Pirates of the Caribbean figurines that clutter up her shelves. I sit down on the other side of Cara too, but I stay silent, letting Marty be the first to speak.

"I like the hair," he says.

Cara doesn't say anything to that, instead focusing on plucking out the stitching of her comforter, snapping the thread with her fingernails.

"Hazel even made the roots fade into the colour," Marty notes. "Looks good."

"Her friend did it," Cara mutters.

"Hazel's friend, huh? Does she understand you too?"

Cara hushes again, keeping her eyes down. It's almost irritating waiting. I just want her to talk, to tell me everything so that I can know what's going on in her head. But she doesn't tell me everything anymore. She has a life I don't know from front to back like I did when she was younger. Now she's in third grade, and I guess third-graders go through a lot without their parents around.

"Daddy," she finally says, "I'm not sure if I want to... I don't think I feel right."

"Do you feel sick?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No. Not sick. I meant I don't feel...like the way everyone else feels."

"Well, how do you feel?" Marty wonders.

"I don't know," she utters.

I look over at Marty, hoping he can see more than I can, but I think we're both near blind. Neither of us really know what's going on with her, and we can't force it out of her. She's going to tell us what she wants to tell us when she's ready and no sooner. That's always been a hard truth for me to accept. I wish I could know what's everything now, but I can't.

"Well," I say, placing my hand over Cara's, "when you do know, we'll be here. No matter what."

"Yeah," Marty agrees. "You'll always be our little..." He pauses and flicks his eyes to me, and there's a moment where we both suddenly feel a sense of understanding: that how he was going to finish that sentence seems a little off. Maybe we're wrong. Maybe there's nothing off about it. But Marty takes a breath and tries again anyway. "You'll always be ours."

A smile forms on Cara's face, and after a minute, she eventually raises her head.

"I'm sorry for not asking first," she says.

"It's okay," I respond delicately.

I wrap my arm around her and pull her close, her yellow curls squishing against my shoulder.

"It will take some getting used to," I say, "but it's growing on me."

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

Cyrus and I both turn toward the door when we hear the doorknob jiggle. From the living room couch, we see our daughter enter in trying to be stealthy.

"Jayda?" I say.

She looks over at us, realizing only now that we're right here, and she puts on a smile. I can now see that her hair is a bit matted, and her dress looks wrinkly and kind of wet, like she fell into a lake or something.

"Yeah, Papa?" she responds.

"How's the car?" I ask.

"Full tank of gas," she answers.

"Thank you," Cyrus says. "Did you do anything interesting with Hazel?"

"With Hazel?" she repeats, holding her grin proudly. "Nope."

I share a glance with my husband, both of us noticing how suspicious she's acting. Curious, I attempt to investigate further.

"What—"

"Okay, night!" she says, cutting me off.

She dashes upstairs, not looking back, and if I didn't know something was up before, I sure as hell know now."

"Should we ask more questions?" Cyrus wonders.

"Our seventeen-year-old, slightly damp-looking daughter brought the car back at 11:53 at night on a Friday," I sum up. "I don't know what she did, but based on her history, I'm thinking I'd rather not know."

"Are we becoming the parents who let their kids do anything?" Cyrus asks.

"Wyatt's getting more under control," I justify.

"That's true," Cyrus agrees. "Haven't had a wild animal in the house in a while."

I reach for my water glass on the coffee table and lift it up, saying, "Cheers to that."

Cyrus smiles and clinks his glass with mine.

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

I think I'd forgotten just how severe my emotions are for Deion, for when I step out onto the porch and see him there, I'm surprised by how immediately my smile emerges. I expected to see him, for we had plans. My eyes must've not fully understood that.

"Hold on one more minute," I say to Deion. "I need to change my socks to a darker grey so that they don't overpower my shoes."

I'm about to return inside when Deion stops me, saying, "Wait, Brayden."

I halt in the doorframe, but Deion doesn't say anything. Rather, he looks quite troubled, and that simple sight dips my spirits.

"Just come out here," he says.

I do as told, my socks stepping onto the doormat. The longer Deion waits, the more I sense the clouds turning grey. He's not smiling. His brows are turned up in worry, and it spreads to me, making my hands clammy, a disgusting sensation.

"Why do I get the overwhelming sense that you're about to say something dreadful?" I ask.

His face sinks even farther, and I feel my nervousness start to swirl from my gut out through my limbs.

"Deion, what is it?" I question. When he still says nothing, I try again. "Deion."

"I can't hang out today," he finally replies.

"That's alright," I respond. "But you could've just texted me that, so I assume there must be something more that you're not saying."

"Yeah," he breathes. "There is." He inhales before letting out a huge sigh and speaking probably the worst two words he could say: "I'm moving."

I feel my body lock in place, nothing shifting, not even a millimetre. This isn't necessarily a tragedy yet. Maybe he's changing neighbourhoods. Maybe this is a good thing. But the way his eyes are boring into mine insists the opposite.

"Moving...where?" I eventually ask.

Deion takes another second before answering, "Philadelphia."

Philadelphia. Philadelphia. I don't know much about Philadelphia, but I know enough. Philadelphia is not Shadyside or a neighbourhood in Shadyside. Philadelphia. Philadelphia is far. Philadelphia, my something dreadful. Philadelphia.

Deion and I stand here, staring at each other, neither of us able to speak anything more, but the name runs on repeat through my head like a broken record. _Philadelphia_. Who knew Philadelphia would be my least favorite place in the world?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mid-season finale is on Friday. I'm excited. It's my favorite episode of the season, and possibly of the series. Have a lovely day. Goodbye!


	106. S3 E8.1: Endings and Beginnings

**Brayden's POV**

"Crash landing!" Jamar shouts as he wields his toy airplane over his head.

He makes the sound effects as the plane comes plundering downward and collides with my shoulder.

"Oh no!" I play along. "Stay strong, men! The medic will arrive shortly."

"Yes!" Jamar cheers. "She's here! You saved them, Brayden!"

I smile at Jamar as he picks up his toy again and starts flying it around the halls. It kind of feels like watching a ghost. Although nobody's dead, there's a sense like this isn't really real, like all of this is just intangible memory dust that will be brushed clean over time. I suppose it will be. Nothing is truly permanent. Certainly not this now, me and Deion sitting on his bedroom carpet together, packing away his things into boxes. It's beginning to look like a children's play fort in here, brown cardboard stacked into walls. Sunshine blazes in through the window, turning the room into a juxtaposition of bright rays upon grey emotions. But the shadows are immense, tall, and darker than they should be. It could be the world's way of compensating for the unfitting light. I notice Deion looking at me out of the corner of his eye, but when I glance over to look back, he returns to packing, stuffing books inside a box. My chest feels like TV static, like I'm slowly dissolving with every minute that passes. This whole scene is an oxymoron, really. I wish more than anything that this boy sitting across the room from me would stay, yet I'm helping him pack.

"He's gonna miss you a lot," Deion says about Jamar.

"Well," I respond as I lift another one of Deion's childhood jerseys into a box, "I'll miss him too."

The next grab, my hands almost drop. The gold number five is stitched onto the burgundy material, going raw at the edges from wear. The flood of flashbacks nearly breaks through my eyes as I try to suppress all the waves, the glances, the times I went early and stayed late, how often I said I liked basketball, and how often he knew I didn't. I liked his basketball games, though, because they were his. Deion has come up beside me to help me fold his jersey, but I don't even see his open hand until he speaks.

"Brayden."

"Sorry, I'm fine," I mutter and hand him the shirt.

I watch him fold the fabric over on itself. His eyes wash over its entirety, taking it all in.

"Do you think you'll join a new basketball team in Philadelphia?" I ask.

"I don't know," Deion replies. "Maybe."

He places the jersey carefully into the box.

"You should," I say.

"I'm not sure. It won't feel the same."

"Of course not. But I think you still should."

Deion shifts his eyes onto me, giving me a faint smile as he says, "Maybe. For you."

I smile back, but it takes so much effort. I wonder if this is crushing him as much as it is me. I wonder if he knows how much I want him to never play basketball again, since I won't be there to watch him. If I were selfish, I'd tell him to retire it completely, to say I was special, the only boy he'll ever play for. It takes a lot for me not to say that. I suppose I am a little bit selfish, but I'll never let him know that.

I pick up another shirt, this one having a logo from a summer camp he used to go to as a child, and I try to make conversation again.

"So this family you're moving to be closer to," I start, "how often did you see them in the past?"

"Not very," Deion replies. "But they're my mom's siblings. We've got a big house there that we've now inherited since my Grandma died. My mom thinks it will be better for us to be there."

Deion's eyes fall downward onto the carpet.

"You don't agree?" I wonder.

He looks to me and responds, "I have ties here."

I wait for him to say more, but he doesn't, and I realize I'll have to get it myself.

"Anything particularly special?" I ask.

"One thing," he confesses.

I want to dig farther, but his piercing, dark eyes make my nerves reel, and I decide to stop to keep from collapsing.

"My great aunt lived in Shadyside before us," Deion says as he puts another shirt into the box. "She was a nurse. There's a wall in the hospital with her photo on it."

"Where is she now?"

"Hopefully somewhere nice."

We fall quiet again, and I can hear us breathing, slowly, in, out, normally. So normal. Irritatingly normal. When I lift up one of Deion's jazz cassettes, it becomes too much. I feel my eyes start to dampen, and I pause, blinking aggressively to try to hold it in. It's not even my sadness that's getting to me. It's my anger. I'm angry that he's leaving. I'm upset that I found this boy whom I've become so wrapped up around, only to have him stolen from me. Of all the hearts in the world, why does mine have to be the one to break today?

Deion's eyes droop as he looks at me and says, "Brayden."

"Sorry," I mumble, doing my best to dry my eyes with my sleeve, but it's difficult to keep up. "I'm allergic to dust."

I hold the cassette out for Deion, but he doesn't take it.

"You can keep that," he says.

I can't respond or else I know I'll fall apart, but I smile and tuck the cassette into my pocket, no debate, no insisting he should keep it. I think I need it.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

From under the stairwell, I hear the echo of the school bell ringing, but Andreas ignores it, keeping his lips locked with mine and my body pulled close.

"We should get to class," I manage to say through my breaths.

"Yeah, we should," Andreas agrees and continues to kiss me.

I don't bother to try again, knowing I'm too weak to let myself step away from him anyway, and this is a lot better than anything I'd be doing in whatever class I have now. But when the footsteps on the stairs above us are suddenly accompanied by my daddy's voice, I find my sense and push myself away from my boyfriend.

"Shit," I mutter. "That's my dad."

I pick up my books from the floor then step out from underneath the stairs and head for door to the hallway, while Andreas follows with a grin.

"Same time tomorrow?" he says.

I roll my eyes, which makes him chuckle, then I exit into the hall. The buzz of teenage voices becomes louder as they all take their sweet time getting to class. I hug my books tight to my chest, picking up my pace when I hear my dad's voice behind me again, but he still manages to catch up.

"Jayda," he calls.

"Dad, hi."

I give him a polite smile as I carry on, trying not to look at him. I love my dad and all, but having him work at my school is kind of embarrassing. Some girls I know wave to me—as well as some who know me, which is basically everyone. I'm not exactly a nobody around here. Some boys give me nods too, and I mentally count how many of them have also hit on me even though they know I'm with Andreas. The number: too high.

"Oh, sorry," Daddy says. "I forgot I'm not allowed to talk to you at school."

"No, it's fine," I say just to not sound like a bitch.

"You going to class?"

"Yup. Algebra."

"Don't you have English now?"

"They both have letters, though, right? What's the difference?"

"Okay, go to class," Daddy tells me.

He steps on ahead of me, and I slow down enough to glance back to see Andreas walking with a couple of his friends. When he notices me looking, he gives me a wink, and I react with an eye-roll and a fuzzy feeling inside my chest that makes me smile as I continue toward my class.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

Libby and Iris sit at the kitchen table with Amber and me, all of us watching the cluster of teenage girls playing hockey with a ball on the driveway next door.

 _"Are those your new neighbours?"_ Libby asks.

"Not all of them," I reply. "I'm pretty sure only one lives there. The rest are her friends."

"They're playing kinda close to your car," Iris notes.

"Well, if they dent it, we know where one of them lives," Amber says.

Our new neighbours moved in three days ago. Turns out nobody even lived in that house for the past year, which explains why it was so quiet and nice. Now the street is loud again with teenagers shouting and cheering. Of the three of us who live here, our daughter is the most annoyed by it, for she comes out of her room with a groan.

"Ugh! I'm trying to do my math homework, but all I can focus on is the screaming teenagers out there," she groans.

"Maybe wear headphones," I suggest.

"I came here to complain, not get helpful advice," she snarks back.

She stomps toward the fridge to get a cup of water while I reply, "Uh, sorry."

After Hazel's back in her room, I look to Amber, saying, "You think Hazel might be spending too much time with Jayda?"

**Hazel's POV**

I close the door to my room and try to get my head onto my school work, but the shouts of the girls outside are not helping me do that. Wanting to block out their sound some more, I close my window halfway, which hardly helps, but the breeze helps me study, so I can't close it fully. I flip a page and force my eyes to stay on the text, but they're stolen when a ball comes shooting through my window, skimming the hair on my head, and smacking my lamp over, the noise making me scream. Thankfully, the lamp doesn't break, and I stand it back up on my table, but it does leave me dumbstruck.

Annoyed and ready to tell some girls off, I snatch the ball from the ground and march it through the kitchen toward the door.

As I put on my shoes, my momma ask, "Where are you—?"

I'm out before she can finish, walking across the lawn to get to the neighbour's driveway. It's the kind that hugs the side of the house rather than sticking out the front, meaning there's lots of room to play hockey on it, and the back corner is almost right below my bedroom window. Two nets are set up on each end, and the six girls there all hold ice hockey sticks. They all look to be about my age too, but I don't think I recognize them. They probably go to a different school than me.

"This yours?" I shout to them.

Then the girl in the middle, the one who was facing away to talk to her friends, spins around to see me, and I blink twice. She's got a white toque over her long, blonde hair that reaches halfway down her pumpkin orange flannel that she wears over a grey hoodie with black joggers. Right away, I notice her eyes, which are blueish-grey like the sky, and the eyebrow slit right above one of them. A smile forms on her as she walks toward me.

"Yo, thanks," she says.

She takes the ball from my hand, and I take an extra second to remember to bring my hand down.

"I hope we didn't hit you by accident," she says.

"Just my lamp," I respond.

"Good thing you already glow on your own."

_Oh, damn. That's smooth. And she's attractive. Ahh, okay. Cool. Great. Just act normal._

"That was cheesy," she realizes, cringing at herself.

I laugh a little, responding, "Just a bit."

She chuckles and lets her eyes drip down over me.

"Um, Sarah," she says after a moment.

"Hazel."

We hold our gaze for another while, and I find myself subconsciously biting my lip, until she finally takes a step back and snaps herself out of our bubble.

"Uh, thanks," Sarah repeats.

She keeps her eyes on me as long as she can before turning around, and when she gets back to her friends, all five girls immediately start bugging her with nudges and laughs.

"Simp," one teases.

"Can you be any more gay?" says another.

I smile to myself, still feeling a little fluttery like surrounded by fairies, and head back to my own house to let the girls continue their hockey game.


	107. S3 E8.2: Endings and Beginnings

**Andreas's POV**

"Oh my gosh!" comes the sound of Hazel's voice in the otherwise empty stairwell. "You two need to calm down."

Jayda and I stop making out as she comes around the back of the stairs to interrupt us.

"How did you know we were here?" Jayda questions.

"I could hear you," she states with raised brows. "Give it a rest."

"Hey, you were the one trying to get us together," I remind her.

"If I knew it's make me feel this freaking single, I wouldn't have done it," Hazel huffs.

Jayda rolls her eyes, which I always find cute, and I let my hand graze her waist again. She figures out what I want in a second and comes back to me, kissing me again as Hazel steps toward the doors.

"Gross," she says as she leaves.

The door swings closed, leaving us alone again, at which point Jayda quits being restrained and tugs me tighter against her, letting our friction spark a flame between us. The door squeaks again, but we don't stop—that is until the person speaks.

"Uh..."

Jayda lets me go in an instant, her face burning red when she opens her eyes and sees her dad staring at us in shock, his eyes wider than the pacific. She's mortified, while I'm just kinda awkward. Like, damn, he really couldn't have just gone up the stairs and not chosen to come around to the backside? Everybody knows things happen under the stairs that you're just supposed to pretend aren't happening. That's what the side stairwells are for.

Jayda immediately searches for an excuse, saying, "Look at that. I'm late for—I don't know—band or something stupid."

She rushes past her Cyrus, avoiding eye contact, and when she's gone, Cyrus looks over at me again, still too speechless to talk.

I swing my hands together, saying, "Cool. Uh, I have kazoo club."

Then I hurry out the same doors.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

In my peripheral vision, I spot Cyrus coming into the kitchen after just getting home.

I ask, "Hey, how was your day?"

As soon as I look at him straight on, I see how blank his face is, eyes open like a deer in the road.

"I saw something," he says.

"What did you see?"

He looks way too rattled for it to be anything good, so I try to prepare myself for an avalanche.

"Jayda and Andreas..."

"What happened with them? Were they doing something illegal?"

"No," he replies. "Why is that your first guess?"

"Well...Jayda..."

"No, it wasn't illegal," he assures me. "But they were doing something."

"Okay. What were they doing?" I ask, running out of ideas. "Fighting?"

Cyrus hesitates before answering, "With their tongues."

My mouth drops as I realize what that means. No wonder Cyrus is so stuck in shock.

"Oh, damn," I react. "Wait, they..."

Cyrus nods. "I don't know why she didn't tell us. I mean, it's completely unexpected, and he's close enough to be our nephew—"

"I bet that's probably why she didn't tell us," I say.

"Was she that embarrassed?"

"I don't know. Maybe they were worried things would get weird for our families."

I'm not gonna lie. Picturing Jayda and Andreas as a couple throws me off a little. Maybe just cause I've known Andreas since he was a baby, and Jayda's my daughter, so picturing her with anyone is strange, 'cause, like, she's my little girl. Now she's my little girl dating my best friends' son. I'm still processing.

"How much weirder could our families get?" Cyrus reasons.

"Fair point. We should probably talk to them about this."

"Yeah," Cyrus agrees. "This is just so awkward."

"I hear you. I'm torn between being the chill uncle or the overprotective dad."

Right in the middle of our conversation, the front door swings open, and since Wyatt is already home in the basement, the only person it can be is Jayda. Cyrus and I go down the hallway toward the entryway, but Jayda starts up the stairs immediately.

"Jayda," Cyrus says.

"Can't talk!" she says frantically. "I'm going to Hazel's to help her with something."

"Can we talk when you get home?" Cyrus asks.

"I'm sleeping over," Jayda replies.

"Jayda, can you wait one minute?" I plead.

She ducks into her room, and shouts to us, "Nope! Can't be late! Gotta keep my commitments!"

A second later, she comes down with a purse rather than a backpack and slides on her high heels again.

"Jayda, you show up half and hour late for all your dentist appointments," I counter. "Since when do you care about being on time?"

Rather than answer, she just whips the door open and says, "Love you too! Bye!"

The door swings closed in a flash, sending a gust of wind through the house. Cyrus looks at me, disappointed.

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

This could be one of the last times I'll be seeing Deion like this—in person, in jeans wearing thin at the knees and a shirt that shows his flexing arms as he lifts a box to set it on his kitchen table. His hair is getting longer. I wonder if he'll cut it again or let it grow. I wonder if he'll look different in a year. I wonder if there will be a day when I don't even recognize him. Next, he lifts his guitar and brings it over to its case, but before putting it away, he pauses.

"Hey, how are you on the guitar?" he asks.

"Quite poor," I reply.

"What about the song you were working on?"

I shake my head. I'm not awful, but just looking at the guitar feels like a ticking time bomb, like it's only a matter of seconds before I break, and touching that guitar would surely speed up the process. Since I denied using it myself, Deion straps the instrument over his own shoulder and starts plucking a few notes. It's beautiful. I'm instantaneously mesmerized by the music, falling into the sound waves like diving—and soon drowning. And I can't breathe, for the water is seeping from my seams, spilling from my eyes, so bad that I have to turn around to keep Deion from seeing. I don't want him to see me crying. He never has. He should never have to.

Deion stops playing as I start packing some more of his books into a box. I stack them on top of each other, quick, hoping the sheer focus will kill the feelings screeching inside me.

"Brayden, are you okay?"

I drop one of the books, and it hits the floor with a clunk. _It's okay. I'm okay. I'm...not okay. Not okay._ It's the book I got him. If I touch it, I'll be scorched. I just know it. I shake my head as I turn around and walk toward the front door, passing by Deion with my eyes turned down.

"I have to go," I state.

"Brayden."

"I really can't be here," I insist.

I grab the door handle but make the mistake of turning back to see him once more. He looks like I just tore him in half.

"Do you have somewhere else to be?" he wonders.

"I—I just can't be here," I stutter.

I yank open the door and try to step outside, but Deion speaks again.

"Brayden."

I don't respond. I finish stepping out of his house.

"Are you gonna come by tomorrow before I leave?" Deion asks.

I look back at him, but I immediately regret it. He has tears blossoming in his eyes, turning them into glittering crystals. My head can't think correctly as long as I'm looking at him. I can't even give him a proper answer.

I just repeat, "I have to go," and keep walking.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Marty and I are in the living room when Brayden comes home with tears shining on his cheeks. He plops down onto the couch and leans so far back that he can stare up at the ceiling, looking more exhausted than I've ever seen him before.

Cara clearly doesn't understand how to read emotions, because she comes past the couch with a blanket, telling Brayden, "I'm about to turn that couch into a fort, so enjoy it for now."

"I will," Brayden utters. "Thank you."

Cara goes upstairs, and Brayden continues to watch the ceiling. I share a glance with Marty who's in the seat beside me, and then we both stand up to go sit down next to our son on the sofa.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"I'm unsure," he replies. "Deion is moving away tomorrow. We were packing, but I left."

"Why did you leave?"

"I don't know," Brayden breathes. "I really don't know. It was just too much."

"Hey, it's alright," Marty chimes in. "We know he was kind of...special to you."

"Why does everyone assume that?" Brayden reacts, getting upset. "He's just a boy! He never could be special to me! He's just..." His voice cracks as he attempts to blink away the tears in his eyes. "This feels childish," he whimpers.

"Having feelings is not childish," I tell him.

"Why is this so hard?"

"Saying goodbye is always hard," I explain, "but it's even harder since you guys were so close."

"I'm fine," Brayden presses, sitting up. "I am."

He pushes himself onto his feet and steps around the couch, wiping his eyes with his sleeves as he makes his way toward the stairs.

"It's okay not to be," I say, but Brayden just continues upstairs.

Then to completely swap the mood, Andreas comes barging into the house and chucks his bag casually onto the floor.

"Yo," he announces. "So, um, if Cyrus tells you Jayda and I are dating—we are."

He dashes up the stairs faster than Marty and I can take in the information he's just given us, resulting in both of us just looking at each other, open-mouthed and in shock.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

"Okay, so your dad found out," I summarize. "So what?"

Jayda sits at the other end of my bed, giving me a look like it's obvious why she's sleeping over at my house tonight unannounced and uninvited.

"He caught us swapping spit," she states bluntly. "Definitely not how I planned to tell him."

"You had a plan?" I tease. "Wow, I guess there really is a first time for everything."

I chuckle while Jayda shakes her head, not amused. Both our attention is taken by the cheers of the girls playing hockey outside my window, which happens to be fully open today, which maybe or may not be on purpose.

"I don't get it," Jayda says. "Is there a pep rally going on next door or something?"

"Or something," I respond. "That's my neighbour and her friends playing hockey."

"Sounds like it'd be annoying."

"Yeah," I respond, "totally."

Jayda sees right through my fake agreement in an instant.

"Oh, wait, you're into her?"

"Maybe a little bit," I confess, trying not to smile but failing.

Jayda lights up and crawls forward on my bed to look out the window. She leans her elbows on my headboard, and I kneel next to her, praying that Sarah won't see us watching. I spot her right as she's running a hand through her long hair before putting her toque back on. She dashes for the ball and slaps it into the net, making a goal.

"Which one's her?" Jayda wonders.

"See the blonde one with the toque?"

Jayda then sees who I'm talking about and says, "Oh, she's hot."

"You have a boyfriend," I remind her."

"So having a boyfriend makes me blind?" she counters. "You should ask her out."

I want to laugh at that, and I do. "Ha! I am nowhere near confident enough for that."

Jayda rolls her eyes and puts her chin on her hand. "You're so predictable."

"I feel offended."

"Good."

I look out at Sarah again. Yeah, no, I could never have the courage to ask out a girl like her. Jayda knew that. That's kinda sad, actually.she predicted I'd be too nervous.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

Jayda's been up in her room since she got home from school. She still hasn't come out for TJ and me to talk to her, so we've just been waiting. The opportunity finally comes when she tries to stealthily sneak out through the front door, but we can see her from the kitchen, so it doesn't quite work.

"Jay?" TJ calls out.

I hear Jayda mutter, "Shit," under her breath. Then she turns around slowly to face us.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"Out," she replies.

"We know Andreas is waiting for you in his car," TJ states.

The truth is, we heard his pull up. His car isn't the quietest. It makes a chugging noise constantly like it's going to break down on the next speed bump it hits.

Jayda folds her arms over her chest and responds, "What about it?"

I let out a sigh. "Could you bring him in please? We'd like to talk to both of you together."

Jayda hesitates before agreeing, "Okay."

Rather than go out and get him, Jayda takes out her phone and texts Andreas. A moment later, the boy enters in, smiling awkwardly at me and TJ.

"'Sup," he says.

"Come sit down," I say.

Both teenagers come to the dining room and take the two seats across from TJ's and mine. Jayda is slumped back with her arms crossed, showing her discomfort. Andreas has his hands in his lap, waiting silently for us to talk.

"I'm going to address the elephant in the room," I begin. "You two are..." I look to TJ, feeling awkward, but he just looks back at me, not giving me any help. "...a couple," I finish.

Jayda and Andreas remain still, both looking ready to leave.

"Although I will admit I was a bit taken by surprise when I found out," I go on, "that reaction was in no way reflective of the respect I have for both of you."

"Cool," Andreas responds.

At that, Jayda gives him a furrowed-browed look.

"What?" Andreas wonders.

When Jayda turns forward, ignoring the question, I notice Andreas's arm move closer to Jayda's, their hands doing something hidden by the table, which causes my daughter to smile at him. It's deafeningly sweet, but it gets TJ sitting up straighter, more alert.

"Okay, Andreas," he says, "I know your parents are our friends, but you're still the boy dating my daughter, so I think there should be some ground rules."

"Ground rules?" I echo. We never discussed this.

"Uh, Andreas, no going through her bedroom window past 10:00."

"10:00 am?" he says. "Got it."

I shake my head. "No..."

Andreas and Jayda's silent snickering cuts me off as they gaze at each other, completely entranced by each other's eyes. TJ's glare only narrows as he analyzes the scene.

"Anything else?" Andreas asks, still grinning.

"Yeah," TJ replies. "Just stay out of her..."

Andreas waits in confusion. "Her...?"

Instead, TJ shakes his head. "Just her. Stay out."

Jayda turns beet red in an instant and shouts, "Dad!"

"TJ," I say, looking at him.

"She's my girl," she responds. "I have to be uncomfortably protective."

Passing by the dining room comes Wyatt who stops to look over at the four of us in puzlement.

"Are you having a family meeting without me?" he questions. "And replacing me with Andreas?"

"No, don't worry," I respond. "We're just talking to your sister."

"Andreas is my sister now?" Wyatt says. "That's a lot at once."

"Nah, actually," Andreas cuts in, "I'm dating your sister."

"Oh. That's easier. Makes sense now why you always hide in Jayda's room together."

He heads into the kitchen, leaving TJ protective again.

"Not after 10:00," TJ emphasizes.

"Sure thing," Andreas says, but his grin says otherwise. Then he looks to Jayda and asks, "Ready to go?"

Jayda nods, and the two of them stand up, holding hands as they leave out the door.

"He doesn't care about the 10:00 pm rule," TJ mutters angrily.


	108. S3 E8.3: Endings and Beginnings

**Brayden's POV**

**Deion:** Are you coming?

 **Deion:** Hey, we're leaving for the airport soon.

 **Deion:** Okay, well...bye.

I've been sitting on the porch steps for half an hour—regretting everything. The wind freezes my hands as I hold my phone, staring at the messages he sent, and I read them, but I gave no response. Eventually, I drop my phone on the stairs and pull my knees up to my chest to bury my face into them while I cry, draining more water than the Niagara Falls. I doubt any waterfall could beat me. I'm discovering that tears are one of those things that you simply never run out of. No matter how long, you can always keep crying. I wonder if that was purposeful when humans were made. God just knew that there were far more bad things in the world, so he made tears endless, yet if you smile for too long, you get tired. There simply aren't as many joys that exist. Deion was one for me, though. And he's gone. And I didn't say goodbye. I stayed here instead, contemplating. I was afraid. I'm still afraid. I can't say goodbye to him. If I do, I will fall to pieces. But now he probably thinks I don't care. Oh, how untrue that is. He would understand if he knew how much it hurt me just to think of his name anymore, just to look at that cassette he let me keep. I may just have to get rid of it if it makes me feel this empty.

The door opening turns my head up again, and I look over to see Cara coming out of the house to sit down beside me.

"You cry loud," she says. "Shouldn't you be saying goodbye to your boyfriend?"

I ignore the boyfriend comment, because I don't have the energy to argue with her.

"I don't know how," I respond.

"Aren't you a genius?" she counters.

"Not with this. I've never experienced this before."

"So you're just letting him leave without saying goodbye?"

I remain silent, and Cara shakes her head.

"Wrong choice," she says.

"Cara, if I say goodbye to him, then I'm going to become a puddle of tears." _More than I already am._

"Then become a puddle."

Such a plain, frank answer, with no thought at all, but somehow it actually wedges its way into my brain. I will shatter when I see him, but maybe that's okay. Maybe that's better than being a window that never sees the outside. But there's another problem.

"He's already at the airport by now," I mumble, "and Mom and Dad aren't home to drive me."

"Get someone else to drive you," Cara responds. "I would, but driving laws are biased."

Having an idea, I stand up, bringing my phone with me.

"Thank you, Cara."

"Go get 'em!" she shouts as I walk toward the sidewalk and unlock my phone to make a call.

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

I look through the heads of the travellers to check each gate number in the airport. I walk so fast that Jonah and Walker struggle to keep up, but I have no time to waste. I can't be late.

"Which gate?" Walker asks.

I count the numbers. _28, 29, 30—31._

"That one," I say, stopping in my tracks.

Jonah looks down at me as I stand frozen in the middle of the path.

"You gonna walk?" he asks.

Wouldn't that be nice. Yes, walking, something I could do a second ago when my hands weren't this clammy, and my voice wasn't so frail, and my heart wasn't pounding.

"I think I've forgotten how to," I say.

"Just move your right foot—" Jonah starts, but Walker cuts him off.

"Hey, it's okay," he says to me.

"This is the last time I'll ever see him," I breathe.

"Not ever," Walker corrects. "Ever is a long time."

"This is the last time I'll see him for the foreseeable future."

"Sure, that's better," Walker accepts.

Some of the bodies move out of the way, and now he's visible. Deion stands with his mother and brother, wheeling his suitcase down the line to board the airplane. This is it. I have to go up now. I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. I can already feel myself unknitting, ready to drop, but I go anyway.

"Deion!" I shout.

Deion spins around in disbelief. "Brayden?"

While his mom and brother step on to board the plane, Deion comes out of line, walking up to me, my heart throbbing harder and head panging louder with each step closer. My body is saying I'm not ready for this, and that may be true, but I suppose there are some times when we're not ready, and we just have to do it anyway.

Deion's eyes start to well as he says, "I was starting to think you weren't gonna say goodbye."

I shake my head and croak in my fragile voice, "I could never do that to you."

We're standing on ice, not moving, frozen, our breathing as loud as our stares. One step and everything could crack. It's quiet, not outside, but inside. And I hear his eyes like a song. A blues tune, a saxophone stealing my mind. I don't know when our time signatures synchronized, but they did, and it's in a constant crescendo.

And I suppose this is it. This is my goodbye. This is all I had to say. So without letting a tear spill, I take a breath.

"Your flight's boarding," I say.

"They can wait," Deion responds.

"I'm not sure that's how airlines operate," I say, managing to laugh a bit.

"Well, they'll have to today."

How naive is that? Naive...and pure. So pure to think that the world will stop for us to have a moment longer. I wish it would stop forever.

"Um..." I try to find something else to say, if only to keep him here. "I hope you do well in Philadelphia and that life is kind to you."

Deion smiles. "Thanks."

Then there's silence, and we both stand with each other, holding onto each second, though they're all balloons floating away. He blinks, and suddenly I see something in his eyes—a shine, like a question, like hope.

"Is that it?" he asks.

I suppose that's it. That's all I came to tell him. Is that all I could tell him? Not in the slightest. No. I have so much I could say, so many dams I could fracture, so many words I could release. I could tell him how much I'm going to miss him. I could say how I'm going to think of him every morning and afternoon and evening, and how I'll likely dream of him, wishing we had become more than we are now. I could tell him how my heart flutters whenever he touches my hand, how my mind reels and my pulse explodes. I could tell him how I once dreamt we were in a story, and we were like Romeo and Juliet. If I really think about it, maybe we're too much like Romeo and Juliet.

If I had the nerve, I'd say all those things, but I don't, so instead I just wade in my twisting stomach and reply, "Yeah. That's it."

Deion nods and takes a step back. "Okay. Goodbye."

Deion turns around and takes exactly five steps before speaking my name again and returning in front of me.

"I have to tell you something," he says, "and if I don't tell you now, I'd afraid I won't ever have the chance."

I stand, begging my body to hold it together, to not break apart, but Deion is starting to sob, and I'm not strong enough to keep myself from doing the same.

"I like you," he cries. "The way Romeo like Juliet. But...gay."

My breath catches in my throat. This wasn't an unrequited love story at all. It was just a tragical romance.

"I think all of Shakespeare's work had subtle gay connotations," I reply.

Deion lets out a nervous laugh through his tears.

"I like you too," I confess.

"You do?"

"Yes."

Though eyes damp, his smile gleams like the moon, and I feel a part of my chest release, whatever part had been housing my uncertainty about how he felt.

"Man, this timing really sucks," Deion says.

"Yeah."

We stare all each other for another minute until a voice buzzes over a speaker.

_"Last call for gate thirty-one; flight one-ninety-two to Philadelphia."_

"Well," Deion says with a sigh, "I guess I better go."

"Yeah," I breathe. "I guess so."

Deion nods and backs up again. "Bye, Brayden."

I can feel my heart severing with each inch that grows between us. It's almost unbearable. But what is worse is the nagging inside me, the desire to do something so absurd, so brash, and completely disregard my fear. Those two forces have always been on a scale, constantly being weighed, examined. Right as Deion's about to step through the gate, one side tips—and I act on it.

"Deion!"

Deion halts and turns back around. Without a single beat of hesitation, I march up to him, place my hands on his shoulders, and kiss him right on the lips. For the moment we're together, I swear all the greys in the world turn to gold, and every tear evaporates. His lips follow mine, stretching the kiss a little longer, until we both agree to let go, and we step back from each other, smiling like it's Christmas morning, like he's not leaving. And now that I've kissed him, he's not leaving—at least not all of him. I have this. I have his kiss. That's mine to remember.

"That's all," I say, sounding more confident this time.

Deion appears to be too awestruck to speak, so rather than doing so, he just smiles again, and as he steps through the gate, he looks back another time, sending me one last gaze, the last one I'll ever have.

And then he's gone, and my tears come rushing back at double-time. The employee standing at the gate watches me, unsure what to do. I doubt she's ever seen a heartbroken thirteen year-old boy before. If she has, it didn't prepare her for me. Jonah and Walker come up as I turn around and walk toward them.

In a collected voice that, if my eyes weren't so red, would make you believe I'm completely composed, I say, "Shall we go home?"

Jonah and Walker step alongside me out of the airport. If I couldn't be with Deion, at least I kissed him. We could've been amazing, or I imagine so. But I suppose the best stories are the ones we imagine.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

The second I start drawing on my sketchbook, the familiar cheering outside takes my focus, and I end up watching out the window again. They laugh together, giving each other a hard time when one misses a shot. The laugh I listen to most is Sarah's. It's higher than you'd guess based on her appearance, but that makes it kinda cute. After long enough I notice some of the girls spotting me, and I sit down on my bed, hoping they didn't realize I was watching. Then a ball comes flying through my window again, just missing my lamp this time and landing on the ground.

While I'm picking it up, I hear Sarah coming up to the window, saying to her friends, "Guys, I told you not to—"

She stops when she sees me in the window. The bottom of the frame sits right above her head, so she has to look up at me to see me, and I lean my arms on the sill, my dark hair and bangs blowing in the breeze that passes by outside. I do my best to try to look cute, but I don't know if it's working or not.

"Second time," I say. "Coincidence or is my window the new net?"

"Sorry," Sarah apologizes. "My friends are turds who can't aim."

"Well, I couldn't judge," I respond, handing her the ball, and she accepts it with a smile.

"You play hockey at all?" she asks.

"Nope. I'm not really a sporty person."

"So what kind of a person are you?"

"Um, I'm really into psychology. I'm also currently drawing."

"You draw? Can I see it?"

I reach behind me for my sketchpad and raise it for her to see.

"Sorry, I've only actually drawn one line so far," I explain.

"What do you mean? That's a dope shoelace," she replies.

That makes me laugh, and she grins at me.

"So when you gonna ask her out?" shouts one of Sarah's friends.

"Do it!" another one pushes.

"Guys, stop!" Sarah shouts back, then she looks at me, her cheeks dusted pink. "Sorry. My friends are dorks."

Since yesterday, I've been thinking about what Jayda said, about me being predictable for being scared of taking my shot. And maybe I'm just feeling abnormally confident today, but that thought pops into my mind, and I decide I want to try something. I want to try doing something unpredictable.

"They might have a point, though," I say, feeling my pulse speed up the moment I say it.

Sarah looks at me for a few more seconds, her smile growing wider, until she finally speaks.

"I was about to go get some iced coffee. Wanna come with?"

My nerves are replaced by butterflies of excitement as I grin and reply, "I'll be out in five minutes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering, yes, there was foreshadowing in S2 E9. Let me know if you noticed it. Also, I'm really sorry to say this, but for the rest of season 3, episodes will likely be once a week, just because I'm starting school now, and writing these takes a lot of time, more than I have. But I have so much planned, so I do hope you stay. Please and thank you. Next episode will be on September 7. Labour Day! Stat holiday! Fun! Anyway, I love you guys. Have a wonderful 10 days before I see you again.


	109. S3 E9.1: Friends With Girlfriends

**Amber's POV**

I open the door to see Bex and Bowie smiling on the porch.

"Hey!" Bowie says.

In his arms, he holds a leafy plant in a pot, which he carries with him into my house. Andi looks over curiously as her parents remove their shoes.

"What's with the plant? Andi asks.

"He's adding more to our living room," Bex explains.

"I saw this bad boy at the garden centre while David Bowie was playing, and if that isn't the universe trying to talk to me, then I don't know what is," Bowie says.

"It's beautiful," I compliment. "What kind is it?"

That's when Andi steps up close to my ear and whispers, "Be careful."

I furrow my brows at her, but she doesn't explain herself.

"A maidenhair fern," Bowie answers.

"The leaves are cool," I say.

"Yeah, it would look great right next to the TV," Bowie says.

He brings the plant over and sets it down on the television cabinet to show me the visual of what it will look like in his home. Andi and Bex both migrate toward each other, looking, worried, but I'm still not sure why.

"Definitely," I agree, nodding to Bowie.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I smile. "Are you getting more too?"

He lights up, replying, "I can. Give me twenty minutes. I'll be back with more, and we can make your living room feel more outside than the actual outside."

"Our living room?" I respond, suddenly understanding why Andi told me to be careful.

"Bex, you coming?" Bowie asks.

"Yes, yup. Just one minute."

Bowie happily rushes to put on his shoes and leaves for his car again, while Bex stays behind to talk to Andi and me.

"What just happened?" I question, confused about how I agreed to have Bowie decorate my house with plants.

"I told you to be careful," Andi mutters.

"I'll try to make sure he doesn't pick any small trees for you," Bex says.

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

I'm in the middle of pulling my hoodie on when I get a phone call from my friend, Cody. WIth one arm still wiggling to get into my hoodie sleeve, I use my free hand to press answer and put the phone on speaker on my dresser.

"I'm leaving now," I say. "I have the glue. Does Jake have the duct tape?"

"No," Cody replies. "Actually, Jake's going out with Lizzie instead."

I yank my hoodie over my head the rest of the way, wiping a frown onto my face as I respond, "What? Why would he do that? We made these plans, like, a week ago."

"Yeah, but she asked Jake to go to the zoo with her, so, you know, he couldn't say no."

"Why not?"

"He likes her."

"He likes us, doesn't he?"

"Not in the same way."

"I don't get him," I huff in annoyance. "At least _we're_ still hanging out."

"Actually," Cody responds, "since Jake dipped, I told Vreni I'd go to a movie with her."

"Vreni?"

"Yeah, my girlfriend."

"I know she's your girlfriend. But why are girlfriends suddenly more important than friends? You used to say girls were too crazy to like."

"That was when I was nine," Cody justifies.

"So girls are better now?"

Bluntly, he answers, "Yeah."

"Whatever," I grumble. "Go watch your movie."

"Sorry, Wyatt. Next time, okay?"

"Sure, whatever."

Cody hangs up the phone, and I flop backward onto my bed. It's just annoying. All I want to do is hang out with my friends, but they're too busy making googly eyes at girls to care anymore. Angry, I yank my hoodie off and chuck it on the ground. As I do that, my daddy passes by, giving me a concerned glance.

"Everything alright?" he wonders.

"Cody, Jake, and I were supposed to hang out," I reply, upset.

"Is that what all the craft glue was for?"

I push myself upright as I explain, "We were gonna try to stick ourselves to the fence."

My dad nods. "What happened?"

"They cancelled to hang out with girls," I mumble.

"Oh. That's disappointing."

"It's stupid," I spit. "What are all my friends so obsessed with girls now?"

"Well," Daddy says calmly, "remember how you felt about that rabbit?"

"Monsoon would be offended," I grumble. "He was better than a dumb girl."

"I understand that your friends cancelling is upsetting," Daddy responds gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," I deny. "I want to tape my friends to a fence, but that's not happening anymore!"

I launch onto my feet to run past my dad quicker than he can stop me.

"Hey," says my other dad on the stairs, but I ignore him and just keep on going.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

I don't know how Bowie did it, but he made my house into not a house. It's a forest now. Everywhere you look, there's foliage, and you can't even blink anymore without seeing green residue in your mind. Bowie finishes placing the last plant in the corner of the room—a small tree.

"I'm sorry," Bex tells me. "I tried."

"There," Bowie says with a smile. "Do you feel the serentiy enveloping your house?"

Andi keeps her lips pursed tightly. "Mmhmm."

"Wait, this one would look great in the bathroom," Bowie realizes, picking up a red flower in a pot.

He carries the plant down the hall, and once he's out of ear range, I go up to my wife and mother-in-law to plead for help.

"Andi, what do we do?"

"Well, you water them well, and make sure they get lots of sunlight," she responds.

"But seriously," I press. "Our house looks like Mother Nature threw up in it."

"You shouldn't have gotten him excited about plants. You know he loves them like his kids."

Bex folds her arms as she utters, "He does have pictures of him with them framed around the house."

Hazel looks shocked when she comes out of her room and enters the kitchen. Her eyes expand as she gazes at the plants surrounding her. Then she lets out a laugh.

"Wow, Gramps really made this place look nice, huh?" she says sarcastically.

"Hazel," Bowie says as he exits the hallway, "do you think there should be more on the other end of the coffee table for symmetry?"

"One hundred percent," my daughter replies with a grin.

While Bowie begins rearranging the plants again, there's a knock on the door, and Hazel answers it, revealing our neighbour, a blonde girl in black jeans and a loose jean jacket. And the way Hazel looks at her is not subtle at all. I can see the heart eyes from across the room.

Sarah steps inside, saying, "Hey—woah."

Her face goes blank when she notices the forest in the room.

"That's my grandfather," Hazel explains. "Ignore it. This is normal for him."

Sarah nods and responds, "I like it. It has good vibes."

"Thank you!" Bowie says.

Hazel laughs and links her elbow through Sarah's, leading her out the front door. Now the focus is back on Bowie and his plant arranging.

"Our house looks like a forest," I whisper to Andi. "How do we stop this?"

"The best way is to redirect his attention elsewhere," Bex joins in.

"Elsewhere? Where else can he put all these plants?" Andi questions.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Marty and I walk through the baby supplies store with Brayden and Cara following behind. Rows of all things ranging from toys to training pants span the space. I haven't been here for years since Cara grew up, but I still know the layout off memory.

"I can't believe we don't have any baby supplies, and it's due in three weeks," I say.

"Time flies," Marty responds. "So what do we need?"

I look through the list I'm holding as I slowly step alongside Marty, my new centre of gravity making balancing an interesting task. The list goes on over the entire page and onto the backside of the paper.

"Everything," I answer.

Marty nods and lets out a sigh before turning down the isle where all the dishes and bottles are. We stop in front of a collection of baby bottles, all of them basically the same. Really, how different can one make a baby bottle?

"I can't believe we have to spend money on this again," Marty complains. "Do we even need a baby bottle? You've got two built in."

"Right, and what will you do when I'm not around?" I challenge. "Listen to them cry until I'm back?"

Marty sighs and chooses a random bottle to toss into his shopping basket. Behind him, I notice another woman farther down the isle, with a stomach that looks like she's in her second trimester, and staring blankly at the various baby foods and dishes. She can't be older than her early twenties, reminding me of when I had my first child and I had no idea how to prepare. After enough confused searching, she eventually turns to look at me.

"Excuse me," she says. "Could I ask for some advice? This is my frist kid."

"Of course," I say. "What do you want help with?"

"Um, I'm not sure yet," she responds with a nervous laugh. "What do I need?"

I smile and reply, "Lucky for you, I'm on my fourth kid, so I know what."

"How old are your kids?" she wonders.

"Well, my oldest is sixteen, and my other two are..." I spin around to gesture to them, but neither are here anymore "...not here. Marty, could you find Brayden and Cara?"

Marty looks back, realizing only now that they're gone. "Yeah, right, I'm on it."

**Brayden's POV**

I've followed Cara's curiosity around the store to the toy isles, but now she stares around at the toys with narrows eyes.

"Toy stores bother me" she says.

"They bother me too," I respond. "Too many loud children running around."

"Why are isles divided like this?"

I don't really realize what she's referring to until she picks up a Barbie from one side and an army action figure from the other.

"Look," she tells me. "One's called a doll. The other is a figurine. Are they not both dolls? I don't get it."

She chucks both back where they came from and folds her arms over her chest, eyeing the rest of the toys critically.

"Well, sexism and toxic masculinity have said that feminine things are lesser than masculine ones, so boys are shamed for liking toys designed for girls, and girls liking toys meant for boys somehow makes masculine toys less respectable," I explain.

"Yeah, it's dumb," Cara agrees in simpler terms. "I wish everything was mixed together."

"Yes, you always chose from either side anyway," I recall. "So did I on occasion."

"Did Andreas?" Cara asks.

"I think he had a toy dog with a pink collar once."

"I wish toys didn't make people look at you different," Cara goes on.

"People have always looked at me different. It's just how people look. But I think I would be disappointed if they began now to look at me normal."

Cara glances around again before asking me. "Do you like being different?"

"Different means I'm comparing myself to something regular," I respond. "I choose not to use a comparator."

Cara lets that soak for a second before saying, "I'm gonna get you to do my English homework for me in middle school."


	110. S3 E9.2: Friends With Girlfriends

**Andreas's POV**

"Hey, Andreas," TJ says when he answers the door.

"Howdy," I reply with a smirk. 

"Is that what the kids say nowadays?"

I shrug. "I could say yes, and you wouldn't know if I were lying."

I smile smugly as I step inside and close the door. TJ just nods and leaves the room, letting me wait for my girlfriend on my own. A second later, I see her peeking over the railing of the upstairs, still in pyjama pants and no makeup.

"What?" she shouts. "No! You're early!"

"Yeah, I'm only five minutes late, not twenty," I respond.

"You can't be late all the time then suddenly show up on time! I'm not prepared!"

"Don't stress. Take your time. I'll be down here."

While she disappears back into her bedroom, I go into the living where I find Wyatt lying upside down on the couch, his legs hooked over the top of the cushion. His eyes stare at the television, but he frowns nonetheless.

"What'chu watching?" I ask as I sit down beside him.

"A movie with no romance at all," he mumbles. "Just a boy and his friends looking for aliens."

I pay attention to the film for a moment but quickly realize I know the plot.

"Doesn't he get with the girl in the end?" I say.

"Poop!"

Wyatt flips right side up and shuts off the TV, sighing angrily.

"What do you have against romance?" I question.

"Nothing when it's not my friends who decide to ditch me because that's more important," he rants. "I don't even get it. What's so special about girls?"

"They're beautiful and delicate yet powerful and hella attractive, and their lips are soft—"

"You sound like a lesbian," Wyatt comments bitterly. "Girls are just annoying. Some are fine, but only when they don't steal my friends."

"I doubt they're stealing your friends."

"They are."

"Your friends just like these girls and want to spend time with them. That doesn't mean they don't like hanging out with you."

"I don't get it," he pouts again. "I would never like a girl enough to give up getting glued to a fence."

"Didn't you say you had a crush on a girl once?"

"I don't know. What does a crush feel like?"

"Well, you feel nervous but in a good way, and you get butterflies when they say your name, and you want to look back at them to remind yourself that they're real."

"I only get butterflies when I'm about to throw up," he mutters. "I don't think I had a crush on her. I don't think I've had a crush on any girl. I just don't understand why people care so much about girlfriends."

I shrug. "Puberty. Hormones. They make boys do stupid things for girls."

"Not me. I don't."

"You're twelve," I remind him. "It's fine if you don't yet. And maybe you won't ever. Maybe you'll care about guys."

"But I don't like them either. Why is everyone suddenly so obsessed with other people? Jake, now Cody. Liking people is dumb."

"I don't know man," I respond but find myself smiling. "I kinda like your sister."

I glance back at the stairs, even though I know she's not there, but part of me wanted enough to see her to give it a try.

"But you'll find out what's so special when you're older," I tell Wyatt, returning to our conversation. "Or you might not. You could just always like hanging out, and that's cool too."

"I just wish people would hang out with me," Wyatt sighs.

I pause at that, looking at Jayda's sad brother, wondering how I can help. What I come up with isn't ideal, but it's all I can think of.

"Ever been to Ferrintosh?" I ask.

"What's that?"

"Small town forty minutes south. Your sister and I are going there. Wanna come?"

"Is that third-wheeling?" he asks.

"Nah. We're the second and third wheels for you."

He smiles at that and responds, "Okay."

Not long after, Jayda's footsteps on the stairs turn my head, and her look opens my eyes. We're literally just driving to a town, but she doesn't seem to know the meaning of the word casual—and I do not mind it. She's in a tight, ruby-coloured dress that's gathered up at one side, showing more of her leg. She does not need to look this hot—but here she is.

"Sorry, I took long," she says. "I dropped my curling iron in the sink and almost electrocuted myself, but we're fine."

"You look beautiful," I tell her.

I stand up as she approaches me responding with a cute smile, "Thanks. _You_ could've tried harder, though."

I laugh, shaking my head, and Jayda weaves her fingers of one hand through mine.

"Hey, by the way," I say, remembering my promise, "we're bringing your brother."

"What's with you and inviting other people on our road trips?" Jayda replies.

"His friends ditched him," I explain.

Jayda looks to her brother. "Really?"

Wyatt nods.

"That's rude," she says.

She lets my hand go and heads over to the door where she laces up a pair of black, heeled ankle boots. Once finished, she turns around again.

"Wyatt, you coming or not?" she asks.

"You don't mind me coming?" Wyatt says in surprise.

She rolls her eyes and opens the door. "Get in the car, dingus."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

The woman, whose name is Scarlet, feels one of the fleece blankets on the shelf. It's printed in red and pink hearts.

"This one is adorable," she says.

"It looks soft too," I respond.

She lifts it up, careful to not disturb the blankets beneath it, and places it into her basket.

"So how hard is it to take care of a baby?" she wonders. "Be honest."

"It's definitely work," I admit, "but my husband is amazing too, so that helps."

"Must be nice," she says.

"Do you have a partner?"

"Just me," she replies.

"That's alright. Friends come in handy too. I was the first of my friends to have a baby, so they all learned with me how to take care of one."

"How are they now?" Scarlet asks. "Your baby, who I think you said was sixteen?"

"Yes. He's very kind. So much like his father. My middle child is completely opposite in almost every way," I go on, though unasked. "He's smart and quiet and witty. Then my youngest, she's so... Vibrant I think is the best word."

"Was there ever a moment when you felt like you couldn't handle it?"

She looks at me with hopeful eyes. She's worried, which is rational. Anyone would be. Having a baby is like starting a new job, only you never went to school for it, and there's no way to quit.

"I struggled at times, but I always knew that they were the best gifts life could've given me."

"That's really nice," Scarlet responds.

Then her hand comes up to touch her stomach, feeling her baby inside of her as she smiles.

**Brayden's POV**

"I wonder where all my Barbie heads are now?" Cara mentions while we walk through an isle of cribs.

"I found one under my bed the other day," I respond.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot I hid it there last year. I was weird."

"Your use of the past tense is amusing."

"Yeah, people say I'm weird a lot."

I only meant it as a joke, but she sounds genuine, which makes me actually care to dig deeper.

"Are you upset about that?" I ask.

She simply shrugs, providing no real answer.

"Well, it's not worth it," I say. "People who call you weird only say that because they feel weird. In reality, weird is pretty regular. The irregular occurrence would be finding someone with no problems whatsoever."

"You remind me a lot of my school library."

"The library?"

"Yeah."

I don't ask how, for that question isn't important enough to me to make it worthwhile, but then Cara asks a question of her own.

"Why are you so smart?"

"I don't know. I suppose I just don't like feeling ignorant."

"I wish I knew more," my sister utters.

Before I can ask what about, our dad comes around the corner of the isle and spots us.

"Oh, hey! There you are!" she calls.

"You were looking for us?" I respond. That took awfully long to find us in the limited space of this store.

"Sort of. There's a Subway next door, so I made a quick stop on the way."

"That's not on the way," I critique.

"Yeah, don't tell your mom."


	111. S3 E9.3: Friends With Girlfriends

**Hazel's POV**

Sarah starts drifting left, and I look over at the flower shop with lace curtains showing through the windows.

"Did we not go out for ice cream?" I ask.

She glances back, replying, "Yeah, but your grandpa got me thinking about plants, so, like, now we're out for plants."

She grins and pulls the door open, making a bell chime. Rather than going in herself, she waves for me to go first, and I accept the gesture, my eyes trailing along her wry smile, pulling me around to face her after passing in front. It's like a magnetic sort of thing, the way her blue eyes hold onto the molecules of mine. I know I don't know that much about her, but I know that she plays hockey, likes iced coffee, and is way too attractive for a real person. I now also know that she likes plants, and based on my currently fluttering state of mind, apparently that's a huge turn-on for me.

"So you're a plant person?" I say.

"Are you?"

"Not quite to the level of my gramps, but yeah."

"Yeah, you lowkey have cottagecore vibes," she comments.

She looks over my knee-length, floral dress with a frilled collar.

"Thanks for noticing," I say, twirling a little.

She grins even more as she watches me slow to a stop and straighten out my bangs.

"Now if you draw hearts on your cheeks and put blush on your nose, I'm gonna simp. I know it," Sarah says with a grin.

I laugh a little, and Sarah walks forward, admiring the flowers she passes by. A few steps in, she spins around, continuing to walk backwards while she talks to me.

"You got a favorite flower?"

"Daffodils."

"You had that answer ready."

"I've thought about this."

"Why daffodils?" she asks.

"Because they're pretty. I also just really like yellow."

She smiles at my giggle, but her face drops as a crunch sounds under her foot. On the floor, a bunch of chips lie around. I'm prepared to carry on past them, but Sarah says, "One sec," and steps away.

A moment later, she returns with a broom and a dustpan, and I stare, gawking, as she sweeps up the mess and sets the cleaning supplies aside.

"Why didn't you just let the employee know?" I ask.

"Customer service is hard enough without having to clean up after people."

I'm impressed, and it takes me a second to realize my mouth is still open.

"You work in customer service?" I ask.

"Sure do. You're looking at a part time employee at the Eastbank Hospital gift shop.

"Do you like it?"

"Lots of really emotional customers," she responds, "but other than that, I like it."

"I assume you're not very emotional."

"Not really," she admits. "But with some things I am."

"Like seeing chips on the ground?"

"And any movies about dogs," she adds.

I laugh at that, saying, "Those movies are so cliché."

"Hey, I have a dog, and I like to think he'd narrate a cheesy movie about the friendship between a dog and his owner for me."

Her serious face cracks into a smile, and I find myself biting my lip as my chest goes soft. Sarah takes a step down the row again, and I keep my eyes on her blonde hair that shines like glass.

"So you like daffodils?" she speaks, glancing back.

Then she picks up a pot of the yellow flowers and holds them out in front of her.

I look down at them, grinning as I say, "I don't know where I'd put these."

"Fair enough." She sits the pot back down on the table then turns back to me, saying, "I'll wait to get them for you once you have your cottage."

She gives me another grin and keeps walking, and I can't help but keep staring at the prettiest thing in the shop full of flowers.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

My dad finishes planting the last tree in the backyard then looks around. Our yard went from bare grassland to magical oasis in a couple hours, and I still can't wrap my head around it. Plants sprout from the ground like clouds of green, and vines wind up trellises, creating a maze for the sunlight to bend through to hit the freshly-poured soil. We step on the new stone pathway he created to avoid hurting any of the plants, and my wife looks around in wonder.

"Bowie, this is actually gorgeous," she says.

He gives us a proud smile and replies, "Thanks."

"This is a much better place for these," bex agrees.

"Yeah, if Amber forgets things a lot, then this should work better since she doesn't have to water them.

Amber looks a little offended by that, but she bites her tongue, knowing that excuse was the only reason he agreed to this.

"Now we just need some flowers," I say.

"Lucky for you, I've already picked some out," my dad says.

He starts for the fence, and my mom goes after him to help. As they exit, my daughter enters in, gazing around at the enchanted forest she's just stepped into. The flowery design of her dress fits in nicely with the new aesthetic of our garden.

"Wait, this is beautiful," she says. "It looks like a fairy garden."

My dad reenters with two blue flowers in plastic pots, ready to be planted.

"What do you think of these?" he asks me.

"I think I should've asked you to come do my garden years ago," I reply.

"Now we just need a pond," Hazel states.

"I have a friend who makes ponds," Bowie replies.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

All I'm trying to do is wash my face, but right as I go into the washroom, my little brother spits his foaming toothpaste into the sink, making me disgusted. I block the image out while getting a makeup wipe out and cleaning my eyes, choosing to not freak out, but rather to let him finish gargling water straight from the tap and regurgitating it without me yelling. This is proof that I really have become more emotionally mature.

"Today was fun," Wyatt suddenly says as he wipes his mouth on his towel. "I hope you aren't mad I tagged along to your date."

I bring my wipe down, one eye now bare, and look at him through the mirror while I respond, "Wyatt, you're my annoying, disgusting little brother. Keyword: brother. I'm not mad. I'm glad you had fun."

I continue washing the other eye, rubbing the colour away. When I'm done, my brother is just standing there and watching me in the mirror. Usually he'd leave, which makes me confused about what he wants.

"Jayda," he eventually says, "am I supposed to like people by now? I mean the way you like Andreas."

The question catches me off guard. I mean, he's never asked me anything more personal than if his socks smell before. And the fact that he's asking me this tells me that he really wants an answer. The way he looks at me so lost reminds me a little of when I was realizing myself too with Oceana, but I guess his situation isn't really like that. Well, it sort of is, but it's also, like, totally different. To be honest, I don't even know what his situation is. He just seems confused, and I feel that.

"You're supposed to like whatever you like and nothing more," I say. "Just 'cause your friends like girls doesn't mean you should. You're still growing up. You have time to figure yourself out."

"What if this is it?" he wonders. "What if I won't like anyone like my friends do?"

"Well, would you be disappointed?"

He pauses for a second before replying, "Not really. I don't see what's so great about it."

"Then maybe this is it," I say. "Maybe it's not. It doesn't really matter what's going to happen. What matters is that right now you like using insane amounts of glue for dumb as hell things."

Wyatt smiles, releasing some of his worry into the air to evaporate.

"Good?" I ask him.

He nods. "Good."

I toss out my dirty makeup wipe and give him a smile of my own before leaving the washroom.

**Cyrus's POV**

I lean against the doorway of my bedroom, watching as my daughter walks down the hall to her room. Having just overheard much of my kids' conversation, I'm left a little mystified and nostalgic, recalling when they used to do nothing but fight. Now they're having real talks, Wyatt asking Jayda for insight as though she's some all-knowing figure. To him, I guess she is.

When TJ's arm loops over my shoulder, I let my head fall down against him, hearing the thump of his pulse like the bass of the earth's ever-changing seasons, a clock that never stops, not even for a moment of breath. It keeps on going.

"They're growing up," I utter quietly, "and now they're doing our job for us. Is Wyatt going to only need Jayda from now on?"

Once my fear is voiced, my son steps out of the washroom and looks our direction with eyes like he had when he was four and begging for us to play with him.

"Hey, dads," he says, "will you turn off my light for me after I get in bed?"

TJ brings his lips close to my ear to whisper, "I think we've got a few more years left."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Next episode is next Monday. The rest of season 3 is gonna have some interesting plots that I'm excited for.


	112. S3 E10.1: Brotherhood

**Marty's POV**

"You ready to go?" I call.

"Yup," Buffy replies. "Just let me grab my purse."

While she finds that in the mudroom, I make a quick stop by the kitchen to grab my sunglasses from the fridge. Once I get to the back door, Buffy's pulling herself up onto her feet after putting on her shoes.

"Change of plans," she says. "We're going to the hospital."

"Are you okay?" I question.

"My water just broke."

I react instantly, rushing down the hallway to shout to the rest of the house, "Kids! Your mom's going into labour!"

My eldest comes into the kitchen, saying, "Now? I'm in the middle of a show."

"Right, well, I'll just pause 'till you're done!" Buffy growls sarcastically.

"Damn," Andreas mumbles. "Wish you could do that."

"I'm taking your mom to the hospital," I explain to him. "Can you drive your siblings and meet us there?"

"Sure thing."

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

"Ahhhhh!"

Buffy yells while squeezing my hand like she's trying to break it in half. My skin turns white from the pressure, and I can feel my pulse throbbing in my fingers. My wife lies in the hospital bed, focusing on her breathing while her contractions continue, and we count the minutes between each one.

"My hand is gonna be bruised by the time this baby is delivered," I comment.

"If my uterus can handle it, so can your hand," she retorts.

"Your contractions are still pretty far apart," the nurse in the room says, "so it's likely going to be a while."

"Oh, awesome," Buffy breathes, annoyed.

The nurse gives her a smile before leaving the room to tend to other patients.

"I'm glad everyone's here," Buffy tells me as she relaxes her grip on my hand a bit. "Our baby will get to meet their whole family."

Our family is waiting in a sitting area just down the hall. Too many people in here would've made it a lot more stressful I think, and harder for the doctors to do their jobs.

"That's a lot of crazy in a room this small," I say, which makes Buffy laugh. "They'll get used to it," I add. "I bet they'll be strong and smart like you."

"I love you," Buffy says gently.

"I love you more."

**Amber's POV**

Fake flowers sit in the centre of the coffee table, probably because real ones could irritate allergies. The chairs aren't the most comfy, but there's at least a thin cushion. Everyone sits on them, including my family, TJ's, Jonah's, and Buffy's kids, except Austen sits on Jonah's lap, mindlessly playing with a coat hanger that they stole from Buffy's hospital room. The atmosphere is anxious but excited as everyone waits for the baby to come. It reminds me of when I was here for this same reason almost 16 years ago, except I'm not quite as panicked as I was then.

"I'm getting flashbacks to when you were in labour," I say.

"I just remember puking a lot," Andi responds dully.

"I'm hungry," Wyatt blurts, which makes Hazel look at him in astonishment.

"What about that story made you hungry?" she questions.

"Is there food?" my nephew wonders.

"Um, there's a cafeteria," Cyrus answers.

"Jayda can go with you," TJ offers. He turns to look at his daughter who is absorbed in her phone. "Jayda."

Without looking up or even blinking, the girl replies, "Wasn't my fault."

"I'll come with you," Hazel says, standing up instead.

"Thanks," Wyatt responds.

He and Hazel depart from the sitting area and begin their journey to feed Wyatt. They were apparently the first of a chain, for Brayden gets up next.

"Now that I won't be the first," Brayden says, "I'm going too."

"Where are you going?" Andi questions.

"I have something I want to see," he answers. "A hospital thing."

"Okay, I'll text you if your mom has the baby while you're gone," I say.

"That won't work," he tells me. "I don't have my phone."

"Why not?" Andi asks.

"Unlike someone" —he gestures to Jayda— "I'm not reliant on the feelings given through a screen. I'll just take Andreas's phone for if you need to reach me."

In the chair beside Jayda, Andreas shakes his head immediately. "No way."

"Then can you go with him?" Andi asks.

Andreas lets out a sigh. "Fine."

Having agreed to leave, Andreas now turns his eyes to Jayda, who still stares at her phone.

"Hey, I'm going," he says in a delicate voice."

As soon as he says that, Jayda drops her hands in her lap and snaps her gaze onto Andreas, eyes wide and glowing disappointment.

"Where?" she asks.

"Wherever medical stuff my geek brother is planning to go."

"I'm flattered," comes Brayden's sarcasm.

Jayda and Andreas don't even react to that. I'm not sure if they even heard it. They're too deep in each other's eyes. Jayda frowns, making Andreas apologize.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you should be," she replies.

Then Andreas's mouth flips up into a grin, and Jayda tries to hold her cold look, but when she can't, she rolls her eyes and looks away. Andreas finishes with a kiss on her cheek, which makes her blush and watch him as he stands up to follow his brother away from the group.

With the boys gone, and Jayda's pigmentation returning to normal, TJ speaks up, saying, "I know I wasn't excited about you and him at the start, but he's a lot better than that kid who figured out our alarm code."

"Oh, Jeremy," Jayda recalls. "Don't bring him up."

"Man," Walker chimes in, "I remember when you were as little as Austen here."

Austen reacts to that by flicking her face toward Walker and saying firmly, "No."

"No?" Jonah echoes.

"No," the girl repeats. "I'm big girl!"

Cara leans forward in her seat to state, "You're, like, two feet."

"Two feet," Austen says, and she drops her coat hanger and reaches for her feet, grabbing them while Jonah holds her to make sure she doesn't fall off his lap. Then Austen starts pointing to each one. "Two. Two. Two—"

"No, that's my foot," Jonah corrects her.

Austen lifts her chin up at her dad. "Two?"

"She's so cute," Cyrus says to Jonah and Walker. "When Jayda was little, she was cute, but she was a lot different than Austen."

"Yeah, she was even obsessed with phones back then," TJ agrees, "only, it was mine, and she would steal it out of my pocket."

"Hey, a girl knows what she wants," Jayda defends.

"I wish you wanted to listen," Cyrus replies. "You used to touch everything we told you not to."

"Yeah, I remember her taking my lipstick from my purse," I join in, "and drawing it all over the carpet."

Jayda just rolls her eyes at the jokes, while the rest of us chuckle together at the memories.

**Hazel's POV**

I'm just walking beside Wyatt, focusing on not bumping into anyone in the halls when suddenly he starts gliding forward, and I realize his shoes have wheels.

"What the hell are you wearing?"

"Heelys," he answers.

"Why?"

"They're cool."

"They're a haazard."

To prove my point, a woman steps out of a door, and Wyatt nearly crashes into her, only managing to swerve to the right at the last minute. But the near-accident doesn't faze him. He stumbles onto regular steps before kicking forward again on his heel wheels.

"Walk normally," I order.

Reluctantly, Wyatt drops onto flat feet and trudges alongside me. Once we reach the cafeteria, Wyatt still isn't happy, this time because of the long lineup filling the stanchions at the front counter. People sit and chat in tables, some looking anxious, others calm. On the left side is a gift shop with clear glass walls that let me see all the generic toys and cards you can buy.

"I hate lines," Wyatt groans.

"Because you can't heely in lines?" I guess.

Before I even get a response, Wyatt's eyes link with a boy across the cafeteria. I understand why when i see the same shoes on that boy as Wyatt's wearing. In under a second, Wyatt darts ahead, and the boys both heely one after the other down the hall, leaving me stunned and confused.

"Wyatt!" I shout, but he's gone.

Annoyed, I run my hand over my hair and let out a huge sigh that makes my bangs blow up. When I spin around to begin my search for my cousin, I'm quickly sidetracked by the sight of Sarah at the gift shop till. She gives me a crooked smile and a wondering squint, which makes me smile too, and I make my way into the gift shop. She watches me as I approach the cashier's desk, noticing the way she wears her uniform shirt with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows and four buttons of the collar unbuttoned. Most people look embarrassingly awkward in their work uniforms, but the way she pulls off the top with her cigarette pants is some kind of record.

"Don't get me wrong," Sarah starts. "Most people would be happy to see their friends at their workplace, but people aren't usually at hospitals for good things, so..."

"This _is_ a good thing, actually," I respond. "My aunt's giving birth."

"Oh, rad." Then she asks while laughing, "So who was the boy in the heelys?"

"That's my cousin, Wyatt. He's...interesting. We were just supposed to get food, and now I have to go find him in four floors of a hospital."

"Want help?"

"You're working."

"Actually, I've been watching old people look at keychains for the past hour and a half," she says. 

"Won't your boss get mad if you leave?"

Sarah glances around, asking, "Do you see my boss?"

"No," I reply slowly.

"Rad. Let's go."

She grins and winds around the counter, stepping on ahead of me. I spin around, my eyes following her like she leaves some trail of stardust with each move that lures me in, and after my second of wonder, I hurry to catch up.

**Andreas's POV**

I let my hand drag along the wall, going over every bump in the bricks as I walk beside my brother, who I honestly think is lost, 'cause I don't know where we're walking to, but he keeps going, as though there's a purpose here beyond just bothering me. The thump of my hand on the wall clacks like a racing pulse, keeping my mind busy.

"Are you trying to irritate me?" Brayden suddenly says.

I drop my hand and let out a sigh. "Where are we even going?"

"Somewhere," he answers.

"You don't know?"

"I know where," he denies. "I just don't know how to get there."

"I thought you would never go anywhere without having a clear plan," I argue.

"Well, lots of things happen that aren't planned. We just have to adapt to them."

"Right," I respond, thinking about my brother's life recently. "Like your boyfriend leaving."

He keeps his eyes ahead but responds sadly, "He wasn't my boyfriend."

"Okay, but he basically was," I reason.

"I cared about him," Brayden states, "but he wasn't my boyfriend. If he was, I still wouldn't be over him."

"You're not, though. I hear you listening to that cassette he gave you on repeat an annoying amount of times."

"It's a good album," he justifies.

"Yeah, no, it's not, so that's definitely not the reason."

Rather than fight me, Brayden remains silent for a moment until we reach a T in the hallway, when he points left, saying, "I think it's this way."


	113. S3 E10.2: Brotherhood

**Hazel's POV**

"I think he went this way, right?" I say, nodding down one hallway.

Sarah looks over at me, saying, "I don't know. I'm following you."

"That would be great if I knew where I was going," I sigh.

Seeing how disheartened I am, she takes a step closer and says, "Hey, I'm happy. Gets me away from my job."

"I'm still mildly worried that you'll be fired for just leaving," I respond.

"Well, then someone who cares about having a job more can have mine."

"You don't care about having a job? What about, like, making money?"

"And do what with it?" she questions.

"Buy things? Like, what people usually do with money."

Sarah shrugs, putting her hands in her pockets casually. "I don't buy much."

"Hmm. I buy way too much."

"What do you buy?"

"Honestly, mostly clothes," I admit. "And pencils. I go through those way too fast."

"You write a lot?"

"I sharpen my pencils when I'm stressed in class."

She laughs at that and says, "Nice. And clothes: I'm more of a thrifting person. Never spend more than ten dollars on a shirt."

"I'm pretty sure my dress was eighty," I contrast.

Sarah gives my lilac midi dress a once-over as she grins and replies, "Well, that dress was worth it."

I smile, my cheeks heating up, and she flicks her eyes back to mine, making me flutter until a scream from down the hall cuts us off, and we both whip around see my cousin and the other boy zooming toward us, causing people to have to dodge them to avoid getting rolled over. Sarah grabs my wrist and pulls me to the wall, a gust of wind hitting me as the boys pass by in a blur.

"Holy shit. They're zooming," Sarah breathes.

"Yeah," I say, "and I have to stop him."

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

I'm literally just trying to look at cute tops on the internet, but everyone won't stop yammering on about Austen.

"Those overalls are adorable," Daddy says as he lifts the little girl onto his lap.

Austen giggles and claps her hands, which makes everyone aww but me roll my eyes.

"We tried putting Jayda in overalls once," Daddy says, "and she threw them into her diaper bin."

"Stinky," Austen says, scrunching her nose.

Okay, I was not that gross. They're being way overdramatic. Honestly. But my dads laugh, and so does the rest of my family. And I'm annoyed, so I stand up, gripping my phone like it's a bomb, ready to leave.

"I'm gonna go for a walk," I grit out.

"Where?" Papa wonders.

I fold my arms, replying, "Where people walk."

As I'm about to go, Austen suddenly starts shrieking, and I glance back to see her climbing off my dad's lap and toddling up to me. She clings onto my leg, crunching my jeans in her fingers as she looks up at me with her huge eyes.

"What do you want?" I question.

"I think she wants to go with you," Uncle Jonah answers for her.

I wanted to be alone, but I'm not a bitch, so I guess...

"Fine," I huff.

I start walking, forcing her to let go of my leg and start wobbling next to me. Then she reaches up, opening and closing her fist like asking for something. With a sigh, I let her hold my hand, and she smiles, pulling on it as she walks beside me down the hospital hallway.

**Andreas's POV**

Brayden's posture would make you think he knew where he was going, but the amount of time we've been walking for tells me he definitely doesn't. I could walk faster, but honestly I don't care enough to do that. The only thing keeping me entertained is asking him questions about Deion, which at first was just to bug him, but now I'm actually starting to care. Weird, I know. Who knew his life wasn't completely boring?

"Do you still talk to him?" I ask.

"We text sometimes." Brayden pauses for a moment. "I want to call him, but I don't think I could."

"Why not? Did we switch phone plans?"

Brayden shakes his head. "It's his voice. I—I don't think I would be able to hear it and not..."

I get that. He doesn't need to finish what he's saying. I get it. I mean, I've never felt it, but I think I've read about it in a book for English class before. It would be...hard.

"Do you actually care about this?" Brayden suddenly asks.

"I mean, I don't really have anyone else to talk to."

When Brayden looks down dimly, I give him a nudge.

"I'm kidding," I say. "Of course I care. We're brothers."

"But we don't talk."

I shrug. "Maybe we can."

I don't talk to Brayden, because honestly I don't understand what he's talking about most of the time, and he usually says words that would be on a vocabulary test, so it's a lot of effort. But, like, he's my brother, so putting in some effort isn't the end of the world. And he's not a total nerd either. He sometimes says cool stuff.

He takes my suggestion in right away as he inhales, and then he lets out a confession. "He was my first kiss."

"Yo, really? Good for you."

I step over to bump him while we walk, and he gives me a faint smile before frowning again.

"How do I get over something like that?" he asks. "How do I just forget about him?"

"I'm gonna be real with you. I don't know. I've never had someone I cared about enough to even text back right away, not before Jayda."

"That's still a little weird to me," Brayden mutters. "You're dating my cousin."

"No," I reply. "She's not related to us. Please don't call her that."

He nods and turns a corner. As soon as he does, he freezes. A second later, he moves again, now faster, up to a wall of photos in gold frames. It's a wall of nurses who I guess died while working here, because it says "In memory" above them, which always means someone's dead. I trace Brayden's eyes ahead to a photo of a woman with a grey afro, round glasses, and a pearly smile. The name reads "Eleanor Wright."

"Who is it?" I ask.

"This is Deion's great aunt," Brayden explains.

I don't think I've seen Brayden look at something like this before. His eyes reflect ravens, dark and depressing, like he's just lost his entire world in a hurricane. It makes me think, focusing on the sorrow he shows, but there's more than that too. He's breathing in this thing he's just seeing for the first time, like playing a record and finding a hidden track at the end. Looking at him look at Deion's relative, I have a realization.

"You loved him didn't you?"

Brayden takes a moment, but when he responds, he does so quietly. "If you told me that was love...I'd believe you."

As tears begin to sparkle in his eyes, I reach my arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a quick side hug before letting him go again, and we continue to look at the photo of the great aunt of the boy he's not with anymore. And it's loud in the hospital—but it's quiet for us.

**Hazel's POV**

"Which way?" I ask as Sarah and I reach another divide in the hall.

"I think this is what my English teacher was preparing me for with all that Robert Frost shit," Sarah says.

As I laugh at that, I notice movement to my right and look over to see Wyatt heelying at the end of the hall, being chased by the other boy. They're gone in a flash, but I set my aim on the place and run over, but when Sarah and I get there, they're already gone.

"This way!" Sarah shouts.

I look back, confused, but Sarah just shakes her head and takes my hand, leading me to where she saw them. I mean, I assume she saw them. I don't think to ask because my brain is flooded with too many gay thoughts resulting from the touch. She lets me go when we get to a dead end, and I try to remember my purpose again.

"Wyatt!" I shout.

All of a sudden, I hear the rolling, and I spin to see him and the other boy gliding toward me. Rather than dodging them, I grab my cousin by the torso, making him screech to a stop, while Sarah stops the other boy, making his green ball cap knock up, and he adjusts it back down.

"Wyatt, what are you doing?" I question.

"Winning," he replies.

"Not how I saw it," green cap snarks.

"Will you stop rolling around and just get your food?" I say.

"We were having a competition," Wyatt explains.

"You can't have a competition in a hospital."

"Yes, we can."

"It's our God-given right!" the other boy argues.

"No, it's not," Sarah shuts him down.

As if just seeing her now, the boy looks up at her and goes googly-eyed, saying, "You're hot."

"And gay and at least three years older than you," Sarah adds.

"Come on," I tell Wyatt.

"Fine," he huffs.

He clunks along with me and Sarah as we go.

"Chicken!" shouts green cap.

"Hey, where are your parents?" Sarah counters.

His face goes red, and he immediately rolls away, saying, "Gotta go."


	114. S3 E10.3: Brotherhood

**Jayda's POV**

Austen swings my hand back and forth as we walk down around the main floor of the hospital. Her puffy piggy tails bounce as she hops along beside me, trying to only step on specific dots of colour on the hard floor.

"I was just as cute as you," I reason. "Maybe cuter."

"Me!" Austen shouts.

"Wow," I mumble. "Narcissistic much?"

She giggles at that then gazes up at me and says, "Jayda, I—I love you."

"Ah, frick," I mutter. "You are really cute."

She laughs again as we wander into what must be the cafeteria. But Austen halts by a glass wall of a gift shop, her eyes going wide. She lets go of my hand and presses her palms to the glass as she stares at a sparkly teddy bear on the other side.

"Pretty!" she says.

Then she starts banging on the glass, and hearing the sound, she giggles and looks back at me.

"You want that?" I ask.

"Yeah," she answers.

"Well, I'm broke."

Austen doesn't care. She keeps hitting the glass. I kneel down and open my purse to search for something to distract her.

"Here. I'm pretty sure I have some lipstick in my purse." I pull it out and hold it up. "Go be a disappointment like I was."

Austen takes the tube and immediately becomes mesmerized by it. She twists it all the way up, but when she opens her mouth and starts bringing the makeup toward it, I realize this isn't worth the twenty dollars this lipstick costed, and I grab it back.

"Never mind. Here. Take a paper straw."

I pull one of those out from my purse instead, and Austen lifts it up and starts brushing it through my hair, finding pleasure in making my locks cover my face.

**Hazel's POV**

I can tell Wyatt is getting restless waiting for his food to be ready, because he starts taking all the ketchup packets from the dispenser, one by one. Too drained to deal with this, I wince and turn around to focus on something else, that something else being someone else. Sarah waves to a customer goodbye at the gift shop, then she connects her eyes with mine and it's like a sea's breeze guiding me over to her.

As I get up to the till, she leans her elbows on the counter, and I think of something to say.

"I don't think I thanked you for helping me," I come up with.

"You don't need to," she responds. "It was the most exciting thing to happen at work since a random kid had a temper tantrum. Hospitals are very boring when you're not a doctor."

"That's probably a good thing," I say with a laugh.

"Yeah, I guess so," she agrees. "But it was cool seeing you."

I smile, but before I can sink too deep under her blue ice eyes, Wyatt suddenly shows up with a hot dog and a mountain of ketchup on top.

"I think I got too much ketchup," he says.

"Nah," Sarah replies with a chuckle. "That's just the right amount."

Next come two more of my cousins into the gift shop. Jayda walks Austen, holding one hand to pull her away from all the breakable snow globes that the girl's attempting to grab at. Then Austen's eyes brighten when she sees me and Wyatt, and she leads Jayda forward to us.

"Hi!" the toddler squeaks.

"Hi, Austen," I respond.

"We were just going for a walk," Jayda explains. "I'm seventeen, but somehow my dads are comparing me to a one-year-old."

"Sorry," Austen mumbles to Jayda.

Jayda shakes her head and bends down, saying, "Austen, do you remember what I said? Don't apologize for being too good. You're a queen. Everyone else can get on your level."

"My level," Austen echoes.

"That's right."

Sarah and I naturally glance to each other while we laugh.

"There you are!" comes my momma jogging into the shop. "Buffy's having the baby."

"Hasn't she been doing that this whole time?" Wyatt questions.

"But it's actually coming now," Momma says. "Come on!"

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

When I enter the room to join the rest of my family, Buffy is sitting in the bed, everyone crowded around her, and in her arms she's holding the baby. They look so frail, like a strong wind could blow them away. But Buffy holds them against her, being their shield.

"Baby!" Austen cheers.

She runs up to Jonah who picks her up high enough to see the newborn for herself.

"Do you know his name yet?" Auntie Andi asks.

Buffy glances up at Marty before answering, "I think we've decided on Declan. Declan Jude."

"I love both those names," Hazel says.

I feel an arm wrap over me, and I look over to see Andreas there. Him appearing is like landing on a bed of feathers. He makes me feel comfortable in a heartbeat, his brown eyes smoothing my edges like chocolate.

"How you doing?" he asks quietly.

"Fine," I reply, but I don't think he believes me.

"You sure?"

I'm not going to explain my frustration with everyone here, so I just don't even answer. Then my daddy starts talking, and I brace myself for another grey comparison of me to some new-born kid who's already better than me.

"He's so peaceful," Daddy says. "Reminds me of when we brought Jayda home. Right away when we got her, she was so calm and gentle."

My arms that were folded now fall open as I realize how pointless my anger was. I might not have been perfect in many ways, but my dads loved me. And they thought I was gentle. That's nice to know.

"Was I peaceful?" my brother chirps.

Daddy hesitates before saying, "You were energetic."

"Yeah," Papa adds on, "you wouldn't hold still. Kept squirming constantly. Made it kinda hard to carry you."

"Well, I don't make it easy for nobody," Wyatt says proudly.

Papa pulls him into a hug, which Wyatt barely reciprocates, but his smile says enough.

"Cara," Marty says, "what do you think of your new roommate?"

"I don't have any objections yet," Cara responds, "but if he cries in the night, that's gonna change."

"Well, he's got six months in our room first, so hopefully he won't be crying too much by then."

Everyone gazes at Declan Driscoll like he's an angel just born. He's adorable, staring up at Buffy intently, trying to memorize her. Pretty soon, he'll have everyone's faces in his mind.

Remembering Andreas's earlier question, I look over at him and nod. "I'm sure."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

The lamp in my room is dim, but my phone brightness renders it superfluous anyway. It's strange how one's bed is supposed to be the most calming place for them, yet I can't get comfortable, not with my skipping mind.

"Hey, Brayden," Andreas says as he passes the doorway. "Wanna watch a movie or something?"

The question takes me by surprise. I can't remember the last time he asked to spend time with me.

"Can I choose?" I ask.

"Nope."

 _I expected that._ "Alright. I'll be down in a minute."

Andreas nods and heads for the stairs while I return my eyes to my phone. I've never been obsessed with it, and I wouldn't call what I am now obsessed. I'm just more reliant on it to give me that missing stream of dopamine that I used to play in before an airplane left for Philadelphia. I check my messages again. I sent one to Deion earlier.

 **Me:** How have you been?

He hasn't read it.

I try not to take it personally. I know it's not personal. He's probably just busy. Doing homework. Maybe. Or maybe not. Maybe he's busy with other friends. Specifically these friends, the ones he's laughing with in a video he just posted on his Instapic story twenty-two minutes ago, and I'm just seeing it now. I don't know exactly why I'm so dismal looking at him having fun. I want him to have fun, and I want him to make friends. But...how can he have moved on while I'm still hearing his hands on the guitar of every song that plays.

The doorbell ringing yanks me from my gloom, and Andreas shouts from downstairs, "Brayden, it's your friends!"

I don't believe I formulated plans with them for tonight, so I go down the stairs curiously. There, Linny and Kelsey stand, Kelsey holding a grocery bag of hidden items.

"Did we make plans that I forgot about?" I wonder.

"We saw Deion's story," Kelsey states.

"We thought you'd need support," Linny adds.

Out from the bag, Kelsey unveils Dill Pickle chips and a DVD. "We brought lots of snacks and a documentary about the Soviet Union's economy during World War Two," she says.

This is the reality check I needed. My reality—although not perfect—isn't a tragedy. I don't have Deion, but I have my incredible friends, and honestly to ask for more is like a butterfly wishing for beauty.

"Thank you," I tell them with a smile.

Andreas is sitting in the living room, and I glance back at him to ask, "Would you be too opposed to watching this movie?"

"Is there violence?" he asks.

"I think it's PG-13," Kelsey replies with uncertainty.

But it's enough for Andreas, who shrugs and says, "As long as it's not Disney, sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope everyone's school is going okay. Mine is meh. But oh well. I'm glad I can look forward to posting for you guys. I have such a fun season 4 planned out, so I really can't wait for you guys to get to read that. Thank you! Goodbye. Next episode is next Monday, September 21.


	115. S3 E11.1: Driving Force

**Andreas's POV**

The second I step into the kitchen, my parents stand up straighter and spin around with huge smiles, but then they see that it's me, and they sink again.

"Oh," Mom says.

"Gotta love a warm welcome," I say dryly.

"Is your sister still sleeping?" Mom asks.

I shrug. "I think she's brushing her teeth."

As I walk toward the pantry, I notice all the streamers and balloons hung up around the kitchen. They drape down like curtains over the cupboards, spiralled like liquorice, with the balloons like bubblegum balls along them.

"What's with the decorations?" I question.

"It's Cara's birthday, you dingus," Brayden answers from the table.

"Oh, shit. I need to get her a gift," I remember.

"A little late," Dad comments.

"Still earlier than last year," Brayden says.

The sound of glass hitting the counter turns us all, and there below a cupboard is Cara taking out a water glass while trying to be quiet.

"Poop," she mutters.

"Happy birthday!" Mom says.

My sister presses her lips tight in a thin smile before responding dully, "Thanks."

"How do you feel?" Dad asks her.

She goes over to the fridge to get juice for her glass. Her neon hair spills onto her shoulders in ringlets, and she sweeps some out of her face. She's got on a T-shirt that used to be mine—a purple and grey, vertical-striped one with a Quicksilver logo—with some white cargo pants. This year has definitely been a turning point in her style. She went from over-the-top to pretty normal in months—well, if you ignore the yellow hair.

"Thirsty," Cara replies to the question.

She takes the cranberry juice from the fridge—skipping over the apple juice, even though I'm pretty sure we only buy that for her—and pours it into her glass.

"We'll do gifts and cake tonight, okay?" Mom says.

Cara sits down her glass on the counter and says, "Thanks. I'm gonna finish doing my hair for school."

"You still have an hour," Mom tells her. "You can eat breakfast first."

"That's okay," Cara replies. "I don't like breakfast."

Mom looks at her in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Sorry," is all Cara responds.

She leaves her half-empty glass of juice on the counter and retreats back upstairs.

"Mysterious," Brayden comments.

My mom turns to my dad and asks him, "Was that normal?"

"I don't know," Dad answers. "None of our kids are normal."

"Andreas is pretty normal," Brayden speaks up, "sometimes painfully so."

"Was that supposed to be mean?" I ask.

"Not at all," he says, but I'm pretty sure it's sarcastic. "By the way, I got the toaster out for you."

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

"Cyrus, you ready to go?"

"Yeah."

Cyrus comes down the hall into the kitchen with his hands on his side and his face less bubbly than usual. I step over to him, concerned.

"You okay?" I ask.

He nods but keeps his hands on the spot above his hip. "Yeah. There's just this pain when I press on my side."

"How bad is it?"

"Not too bad, but I woke up with it, and it's making me worried."

"Maybe you slept twisted," I offer. "It'll probably go away soon."

"Yeah."

He steps past me to go to the fridge, but even though he's not showing signs of being in pain, I still watch him with a worried expression.

"You rest," I tell him. "I'll drop Wyatt off at school."

A moment later, the very boy comes marching into the kitchen, saying, "No need. I'm gonna skateboard to school."

"Wyatt," Cyrus says in a sigh, "we don't live close enough for that."

"I thought you were supposed to believe in me," he argues.

"I do, but I also believe in Google Maps when it says it's a ten-minute drive, and school starts in fifteen. You're not skateboarding."

Wyatt tips his head back in annoyance, but I just put my hand on his shoulder and steer him toward the door, saying, "Put some shoes on and let's go."

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Once the water in the kettle starts to spill out as steam, I pour it into my oatmeal bowl, but Austen has already heard the kettle squeal for long enough that she mimics it while in her high chair, squeaking and giggling, looking for approval. I give her a smile, and she returns to sucking on her sippy cup of juice, pleased.

"Nice cake," Jonah says as he enters the kitchen.

He admires the rectangular dessert on the dining table next to where Austen is rolling her sippy cup around on the tray of her high chair.

"Thanks," I say.

"You chose Cara's favorite colours," Jonah notes.

Blue and green polka dots of icing spot the white background of the cake.

"Buffy wanted it to be special," I say.

"Cake!" Austen shouts.

"Yeah, but not for you," Jonah responds.

Austen begins slapping her sippy cup around louder on her tray, but not because of the cake. Rather, she's looking at me eating a scoop of my oatmeal.

"Can I—can I breakfast?" she asks, making the R sound like a W.

"Yes, I'm getting you breakfast," I reply. "Just be patient."

She continues playing with her sippy cup while Jonah and I continue our conversation.

"I'm kinda proud that we have the cake now and didn't get it last minute like last year," Jonah says.

"Yeah. Now all we have to do is relax and wait for this evening."

 _Spat!_ I guess we jinked it, because we look over to see Austen's sippy cup on the cake like a meteor, creating a huge crater. It's unfixable, and we can't give this cake to Cara for her birthday. Jonah and I both stare at the disaster in defeat, while Austen makes an 'O' shape with her mouth.

"Oops," she says cutely.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

When Andreas opens his front door, I stick my hand out, holding the coffee that's actually still warm, which I got for him for no reason other than to show how quick I can now be. If I wasn't trying to show off, I would not have gotten this for him.

"That was fast," he says, surprised.

"I drove," I state with a grin.

He raises his eyebrows, impressed. "You drove here? That's scary."

"I'm better than Jayda," I reason.

"I would hope so," Brayden says from the couch. "She drove me home from theatre club once, and we almost hit a fountain."

"What road has a fountain beside it?" I ask, trying unsuccessfully to piece that together.

"None," Brayden answers.

_Oh. Now I got it._

Andreas takes the coffee cup from my hand, saying, "So you wanted to show off your license. Now I get why you offered to get me coffee. Did you drive to school too?"

"I haven't gotten a parking pass yet," I explain, "because that would require me to have money, and I am unemployed."

Footsteps trotting turn my eyes over to Cara as she descends down the stairs.

"Hazel's here?" she says as though she's been dying to see me.

"Hi, Cara," I respond. "Happy birthday."

She doesn't reply to that. Instead, she just comes up beside Andreas and asks, "What are you doing here?"

"Just bringing your brother a beverage, but I'm going now."

"Where are you going?" she wonders.

"Um, anywhere that doesn't involve parallel parking."

"Can I come?"

I'm caught off-guard by my cousin's request, seeing as I don't spend much time one-on-one with her, for she is seven years younger than me, but there's no reason for me to not take it. I won't be able to play my explicit music in the car, but I'll survive. But shouldn't she have plans? It is her birthday.

"Don't you have a birthday party?" I ask.

Cara shakes her head.

"Nah, apparently she's too old for that," Andreas explains for her.

"You're nine," I state to Cara.

She just squeezes past me out the door and says, "Let's go."

"Alright," I accept and follow her off the porch.


	116. S3 E11.2: Driving Force

**TJ's POV**

Every time Amber walks into my house without any invitation, I question why I gave her a key. I make my way toward the front door as she and Andi enter in.

"Guess who's driving now," Amber says.

I raise my brows in surprise. "Hazel's driving?"

"Yup," my sister confirms.

"Wow. I hope she's a better driver than Jayda."

"I hope so too," Andi agrees.

"If her backseat driving is a reflection of her actual driving," Amber starts, "I'd say she's pretty good. She always points out when I'm speeding now, and it's quickly getting annoying."

I let out a laugh.

"So we going to The Spoon?" Andi asks.

"For sure," I answer. "Cyrus is just coming down."

It takes another minute before my statement becomes true, but when it does, Cyrus has a perplexed look on his face, walking with intention to get up to me.

"TJ, I think my kidney burst," he states.

"How did you conclude that?"

"Because my dad's kidney burst, and he says a sharp pain in my side could be my kidney."

"Which dad?" I ask.

"My step-dad."

"So not even the one related to you."

He just blinks and holds his stance. Yes, I was concerned for him in the morning, but since then, I've seen him forget that his side was supposed to be hurting multiple times, so I'm now questioning how much of a worry this actually is. Like, I love him, but sometimes he can overreact. When I was younger, I was oblivious to this fact, but now that we're adults, I've witnessed many instances like this, including when his ears were ringing and he thought he had an ear tumour, or when he stood up too fast and got black vision which lead him to think he must have diabetes. He didn't. Or the time he swore his toe was broken and asked me to carry him to class all day. I did, of course, but it turned out to just be bruised.

"It could be your appendix," Andi says.

Cyrus shakes his head. "I got my appendix removed already, so it must be my kidney."

"Cyrus," Amber says, "if your kidney burst, I don't think you'd be standng normally right now."

"But it hurts when I press on it," he argues.

"So what do you want to do?" I ask.

"Let's go to the doctor."

"So no Spoon?" Andi complains.

"Please, Andi, I just burst my kidney."

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

The bakery is cluttered with colours of fruits and icing. Pastries coated in sugar, and others glazed shiny, stock the shelves to our right, and to our left is a display case of various cakes, yet it's almost empty, like April 19th must be everyone's birthday. Austen holds Jonah's hand as the three of us walk in, yet she naturally drifts toward the giant desserts.

"Cake!" she shouts.

"Nope," Jonah replies. "You're not allowed to look at cake anymore."

He picks her up and turns her away from the desserts. She squirms, trying to get a clear view to the cakes, but Jonah doesn't budge.

"Jonah," I say.

"What?"

I just sigh and step up to the counter where a young adult stands with a half-assed smile.

"Can we get a cake?" I ask.

"For sure," they reply.

"Great. Do you have chocolate?"

"I don't know. I just got here."

"Well, don't you know what cakes you have?"

"Most went bad," they explain. "I left them in the freezer too long. Got ice crystals everywhere."

"Can we get a new cake made?"

"Sure."

When they say nothing more, I ask, "How long will it take?"

"About eight hours."

"Why so long?"

"'Cause my shift is over then, and the next guy who knows cakes can make it."

I let out a frustrated breath and ask, "So what cakes do you have already made that aren't freezer-burned?"

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Even though I'm focused on the road, I notice Cara looking at me in the rearview mirror. She flicks her eyes onto mine then away, like trying to grasp onto some invisible string that she can't quite tie. I don't know what it's for, but there's something she's wanting to accomplish by being here. I can feel it.

I almost miss a stop sign from being too deep in thought. Once I'm driving smoothly again, I decide to speak up.

"How does it feel to be nine?" I ask.

"Not much different than eight," Cara replies.

"Well, is it exciting?"

She doesn't respond, but I see her reflection shrug.

"You know you're not too old for a party," I say.

"I don't like parties," she simply states.

"Why not?"

"That's a lot of people. Do you like parties?"

I think about my last party and how I ended up puking in a closet.

"Uh, I don't do well at parties," I answer. "What about inviting just a few friends over?"

"I don't have many friends," she confesses, and it makes me stay stopped a little too long at a light.

It's almost painful to hear that, because I think I said those exact words one time when I was close to her age. But I always had Fatima who made me feel important. I hope Cara has at least one person like that, but I don't know that much about Cara. Yet I somehow feel like I understand her. But that could just be me projecting myself onto her.

"What?" I say. "But you're so friendly."

"I have one, sort of," Cara explains. "I used to have more. But I don't think they liked me."

"Did they say that?"

"Not exactly that."

"Then how do you know they didn't like you?"

She shrugs. "I just thought so."

I glance at her curiously, wondering which way this situation really falls. My psychology textbook flips open in my mind for me to scan. She could be right that people don't like her. Or maybe she's the one who doesn't like herself, which is making her subconsciously push people away. That wouldn't be uncommon. I've seen it among my classmates, and admittedly myself at times. But she's pretty young to be going through an identity crises already. I guess she has always been advanced for her age.

"Well, I'm sorry," I say.

"It doesn't matter," she states. "All I need is myself."

"I love your confidence, but I regret to tell you that you actually do need other people."

"Why?"

"I don't know, but pretty much every needs theory out there says it."

"If it's a theory, it's not a fact, right?"

"Well, no—"

"Then it might not apply to me."

"That's true. But it does."

She's quiet, but she doesn't look sad. She could just be hiding it. I can't tell.

After a bit longer, I ask, "Do you like sundaes?"

She smiles. "Yeah."

I nod and take a corner into a shopping area.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

Cyrus holds my hand while we enter the building with the doctor's office. On the main floor, fake plants rest on matted carpet outside a Subway. A list of offices is on a sign next to the elevators, but we're getting over there at an exhaustingly slow pace, because Cyrus doesn't want to push himself too hard.

"Why are we coming?" Amber suddenly asks.

She and Andi have just been here but haven't questioned it until now.

"For moral support," Cyrus answers. "I could use friends here for this."

"If I ever end up with my kidney bursting or some other medical condition, you better come support me too," Andi says.

"You doing okay?" I ask Cyrus gently.

"I don't know," he replies. "My kidney could be bursting."

"Cyrus," Andi says, exasperated, "I don't think your kidney is bursting."

"Then what else would it be?"

"When was the last time you used the washroom?" Amber questions.

Cyrus pauses at that, contemplating the suggestion. Sure enough, a few minutes later, he comes back from the restroom red from embarrassment that he dragged us all here for nothing.

"I'm ready to go to The Spoon," he says.

"I was right?" Amber asks with a smirk.

"Amber, I just had a kidney scare," Cyrus hisses. "Please be nice."


	117. S3 E11.3: Driving Force

**Hazel's POV**

The open windows of my car let a breeze through while Cara sits in the passenger seat, cross-legged and facing me with her marshmallow sundae dripping white on white. She spoons a clump into her mouth then pokes at it with her spoon while I slowly but surely eat my own cherry sundae. Her eyes are still, focused on the ice cream, but I don't think she's even really looking at it, but rather looking through it at her own mindscape instead.

"Is it good?" I ask.

She nods as she digs a spiral line into the ice cream.

"I used to get that kind a lot when I was little," I tell her, "but now I don't eat gelatine anymore."

Cara remains quiet for a second, leading me to think she wasn't listening to me, and then I realize she definitely wasn't, because she asks a question that's so far off-topic, but makes me so insanely curious.

"Hazel, people thought you were a boy when you were little, right?"

She's literally never asked me about this. She's never even brought up that I'm trans, nor have I brought it up with her, so her asking about it is unexpected.

"Uh, yeah," I reply.

"How did you tell them you weren't?"

She looks at me as I struggle to find my response, but she doesn't let my hesitation sway her plain and pure fascination and desire to know.

"To be honest, I don't remember. My moms said I told them when I was about four that I was a girl, and they just started using she and stuff, so yeah."

"What about with kids at school?" Cara wonders.

"Most of them didn't realize I wasn't the same as them, because, I mean, when you're four, you can't really tell the sexes apart, but when I got older, occasionally I just had to tell people I was a girl," I explain. "Elementary school wasn't too hard, because they were all the same people I grew up with. Sometimes adults would get it wrong—"

"What did you do then?" she cuts in.

I shrug. "Just moved on."

"What if they kept being wrong?"

She seems so intertwined in this, and I think I'm starting to have an idea why. I could be wrong, though, but nobody has ever asked me questions like this before. They've asked me these questions, yes, but not like this—not with the desperation that Cara has now.

"You know, I was mad at first," I say, "but after enough times, I just kinda got used to the fact that lots of people won't accept me, and that's okay, because I'm not living for them. I'm living for me."

"You're brave," Cara says. Then she looks down at her ice cream, which is becoming a puddle at this point. "I wish I could be like you."

"You're brave too," I say with a smile.

"I want to be braver."

"Well, what's stopping you?"

She shrugs.

"Are you scared?"

"Maybe," she admits.

"That's okay. Everyone gets scared."

"Being scared is stupid."

"Not necessarily."

"It's stupid."

"Okay, it's stupid," I agree.

There's a dead moment of just her spoon swishing her not-so-ice cream around in its bowl.

"Hazel?"

"Yeah?"

"My ice cream is melted."

"Well, I don't have a job, and therefore no money to get another one, so just drink it."

She brings the bowl to her lips and starts sipping, pausing briefly to show satisfaction with the method of consumption.

"Is there anything about you that you want to tell me?" I ask out of the silence.

She nods while continuing to drink her ice cream, but she doesn't actually say it.

"Well, just know that I'm listening," I say.

She brings her empty bowl down to her lap and asks me, "If I tell you, does that mean I have to tell everyone else?"

"No," I answer. "Not unless you want to."

"I want to. But I don't know what to say."

"Say what you want to say, whatever that is."

That hangs free in the atmosphere for another minute until Cara lifts her eyes up to mine, her hands gripping her plastic sundae bowl tight yet still shaking.

"Hazel?"

"Yes?"

"I have something to say."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

"Finally!" I say when Walker and Jonah step in through the front door of my house.

Jonah holds Austen's hand, while Walker holds the cake we asked them to get for Cara's birthday. Usually they bring it earlier, but thankfully it's still here in time. Cara's still out with Hazel doing whatever they are doing, which means we have a little longer to prepare for her special evening of cake and gift-opening.

"Sorry," Jonah says as he and his family come into the kitchen where Marty and I are getting out the plates and forks. "We were getting the cake."

I furrow my brows. "I thought you already got the cake."

"We did," Jonah confirms. "But Austen threw her sippy cup in it."

The little girl just giggles and jumps while hugging her dad's arm, squeezing him tight.

"So plan B," Walker adds.

He sets the cake down on the island and removes the cardboard lid. The cake is nicely decorated, with flower details and elegant icing lines, but the phrase on it befuddles me.

" _'She'll be in our hearts,'_ " Marty reads aloud.

"This looks like a funeral cake," I state.

"It is," Jonah responds. "There weren't many options. We figured this was better than the divorce cakes."

"Great," I mutter.

I peak out of the kitchen to call for Andreas, but before shouting, I remember that Declan is sleeping upstairs, and it already took me long enough to get him to sleep.

"Andreas," I say, hoping he'll hear me.

Thankfully, he does, and he comes galloping down the stairs into the kitchen.

"Do you have your gift ready?" I ask.

"Yeah, I found fireworks at—"

"Stop. I'd rather you not get a gift," I tell him.

"But I think she'll like it," he counters.

"That's what I'm worried about."

Brayden enters the kitchen, and I'm immediately relieved.

"Brayden, can you help us find the candles?" I ask.

"Buffy," Marty says, taking one of my hands in his, "are you stressed?"

"No," I deny, but his delicate thumb rubbing my palm like moonlight on a lake surface wedges the truth out of me. "I'm stressed."

"Why?"

I don't want to confess this in front of everyone here, so I lead Marty out into the living room away from our sons and friends.

"Cara's..." I begin, and try to piece together what I want to convey "...not the same lately. And I want her to have a good birthday."

"I'm sure she'll love it," Marty assures me.

"She wasn't loving it this morning," I say.

"She was just tired."

He seems positive of that, but I'm not, and I let out a sigh. We've both noticed something different about her, not about herself really, but about her mood. And I think I know what it is, but I don't want to jump to conclusions. I want her to tell us when she's ready, but why can't she just be ready now? This uncertainty is killing me.

"I wish she would talk to us," I say. "Like, maybe we could help if she would just let us in."

"When Brayden was keeping things from us—more than he already does—he didn't tell us with us prying," Marty reminds me. "We need to let her talk to us when she wants to."

"I wish she would want to now."

Before either of us can get out another thought, the front doorknob rattles, and in comes Cara. Hazel must have dropped her off.

"Hi, Cara," I say, although my wired nerves make my tone sound like I was talking about her behind her back, which I guess I sort of was, but I'm pretty sure that's just called parenting.

"I see fire," she says, glancing toward the kitchen.

Over there, Brayden is holding a lighter and dropping pearls of flame atop each candle on the cake.

"That's your cake," I say. "Go over and make a wish."

Cara, lacking emotion, walks into the kitchen, followed by me and Marty. She steps up to where it sits on the island and stares down at it, her expression remaining blank. Usually, she would be excited right now, but apparently this year isn't like other years. This year is different. She's definitely not a tiny, little baby anymore like Austen, and I can't predict or control how she feels. I just have to pray that she'll let me help her feel better. Because clearly there's something wrong. Something's been wrong for a while now. But everyone sings happy birthday nonetheless, and she forces a smile on her face while waiting for it to be finished. She no longer likes to be the centre of attention.

"You know what you're wishing for?" Andreas asks her.

She glances around at us then nods and blows out her candles. She misses one, but one more breath snuffs it out, and Jonah and Walker start clapping. I have to shush them, reminding them that there's a baby sleeping upstairs, and they dial their applause down in volume.

"Why doesn't it just say happy birthday?" Cara asks as she continues to examine the cake.

"It's for a funeral," Jonah explains. "Sorry. They were out of birthday cakes."

"Funerals are cooler anyway," Cara responds.

"Should I cut the cake?" Marty asks, but Cara doesn't give him the answer he expected.

"Actually," she says, her eyes still stuck on the icing, "can we do cake later? I'm not very hungry right now."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Marty replies.

"Can I still have a piece?" Andreas asks, which gets him a smack on the arm from Brayden.

"We'll eat later then," I say.

"Thanks," she mumbles and takes a step back from her cake.

"Do you want to do presents?" I suggest.

"I guess."

________________________________________

**Cara's POV**

Birthdays are supposed to be happy days. They're supposed to be fun, and I'm supposed to have fun, and have friends around. And it should be loud and sunny like renting summer for a day. And I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to tell the truth. My parents always tell me to tell the truth. But it's hard for me to tell anything, because the truth got stuck in my throat, and I was afraid I'd choke.

And there should be presents on birthdays. There were, but I didn't react to them right. I wasn't excited by the sight of each unwrapped item. Andreas didn't have a gift. He never does. I'm not mad. He said I would've been glad, but Mom said it was bad, something I'm not allowed to have. Maybe I'll dream of what it was. It could've been anything. It could've been invisible ink, or it could've been a skateboard—I've always wanted a skateboard—or maybe it was more hair dye. I'm thinking of doing orange next. That is, of course, if I can get away with it again.

I like my yellow hair, because it's something I chose. It's the only part of my body that I chose. The rest, the rest is like finding a cantaloupe with watermelon inside. I wish I weren't the only one who could see the pink, but apparently I am, and the proof is right here on this cake.

A puddle like a lake in my eyes, a word I need to revise. The kitchen lights are dim. My family is all getting ready for sleep upstairs. My parents think I'm asleep. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't sleep because I'm a wimp. I told Hazel I'd tell them what I told her. I told her I'd be brave. But I'm not brave. I'm nine. I'm just a kid, and I'm afraid of my own voice. I really don't know how loud it is, how much noise.

_She'll be in our hearts. She._

I dig my finger into the icing, and as though I've been writing it for years, I swirl a new word overtop of the old one.

I lick my finger clean and stare at the masterpiece for a moment. With a deep breath, I head for the stairs to go to bed now, now with my truth out. I couldn't say it aloud. But at least it's there. And my heart thumps, knowing I just turned a page—and burnt the entire beginning of the book. 

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

It's dark, the middle of the night, but I turn on a light in the kitchen as I go to the fridge to get a glass of water. That's all I intended to do, get water and leave. But the gleaming yellow glow on Cara's cake makes me look that way, and I forget what I came down here for.

 _They._ It's written as a trench over the old _She_ that was in icing on the cake. It takes me a good minute to process what's happening, but when I do, everything locks into place like a broken record finally playing right.

I notice the fridge open and shove it closed before hurrying upstairs to talk to Buffy about this, because I have no idea what else to do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone's theories come true today? Also, I'm doing s'well, aside from school which I hate with a passion, but anyway... I love you guys. I think you're gonna be spooked by the final four episode of the season. I also think season four's gonna have some interesting twists. It puts people together that we haven't seen before, showing new dynamics, and I'm excited. Have a lovely week! Next episode on Monday.


	118. S3 E12.1: The Icing on the Cake

**Cara's POV**

My arms lift away the drapery that is my hair, flipping the frizz backward like opening a book. Desperate sunshine pries through the blinds to take a look in the glossy, clear mirror. It highlights my highlighter hair, unveiling a few freckles in my coffee-coloured skin. Thin arms, but strong, enough at least to complete the tasks in P.E. I've always been pretty indifferent toward my body, my face, giving it grace, it's not really mine anyway, so what could I even say? I use it to move, to eat. It does those things just fine, I guess. Doesn't do much to impress, but it's alright.

I get dressed. A sad hanger holds that baby blue suit I wore last year. It doesn't fit anymore, too tight at shoulders. That's what happens when you get older. I shove it to the back, sparing its life once again, until my mom will eventually come in with a bucket for donations. Carnation stickers stay on my closet door handle that I put there when I was five and can't peel off without leaving residue. I bet they're confused too, seeing as my closet when from cartoon colourful to vibrant vaporwave spinoff. I pull out a pitch black graphic tee with graph-lined imagery printed on in pastel blocks. After slipping it on easily over my head, I face the mirror across my room again. Something's missing, and it doesn't have to do with my pyjama pants that still make a racket.

I retrieve the suit jacket and a pair of scissors. Thread spits open like bursting a balloon. It's now a vest, and it fits quite well over my shirt of pastel. Black, purple-pocketed pants; an eggplant-toned, canvas belt; and the look is done. But my hair, although wild and out-there, looks bare. I slide a bead into a curl, then another one, and more, and now it's a glittering geode of plastic dots. The look is done.

Down in the kitchen, my family is gathered. Brayden is tethered to his book as usual. Andreas sits on the neighbouring seat, eyes flicking up from his phone for a mere second to look at me. Mom has her new baby in her arms, my little brother, his eyes droopy, face loopy, for he can't yet have his morning coffee. I'm still waiting on that, although Andreas let me try it once, and I immediately spat it out. It's some cruel trick how energy taste disgusting.

Dad sips his energy, sight wide and on me, like my mom's. The cake isn't out on the counter anymore. That means they saw it. They moved it out of the way. So why don't they acknowledge it?

"Good morning," Mom greets.

"Yup," I respond, heading toward the table.

"Is your hair clacking?" Brayden questions, listening to the shallow beat of my swinging coils.

"They're beads," I explain.

"How peculiar."

"What do you want for breakfast?" Mom asks me.

_I want a different question. I want you to ask me about what I wrote on the cake. It wasn't just a pointless display of they. I want you to say something, Mom, Dad. I waved a flag in front of your eyes only to have you ignore it. I'm starting to deplore it._

I could bring it up myself, if I had the self-esteem, but confidence isn't so prominent in me apparently. The thought of vomiting that conversation up myself is terrifying.

"Um, anything edible," I answer.

"How about cereal?" Dad offers.

"I guess."

A pause.

"Then later tonight you can have that cake."

He mentioned the cake. My pulse pumps. My mom gives him a nudge and sharpens her brows his way. My baby brother's head lays limp against my mom's chest. He doesn't care. I can't tell if my parents care. I care. I'm screaming—inside only.

"Did you put it away?" I ask through frigid vocals.

Mom nods. I wait. Nothing.

"Yeah, maybe we'll have some later," I mumble.

I push myself out of my chair and go over to the kitchen where my dad is taking the milk out from the fridge.

"What kind of cereal do you want?" he asks. "Froot Loops like always?"

"Or something different," I reply. "But not Corn Flakes like Brayden and Andreas have. Something...in the middle."

This isn't about cereal. My parents would have to be idiots to not get it.

My parents are idiots.

"Cheerios?" Dad asks.

"Yeah, Cheerios," I breathe heavily. "I'll take them to my room."

"You don't want to eat with us?" Mom says.

"They taste better in my room," I respond.

Once my dad has filled the bowl, I grab a spoon from the drawer and steal the meal, taking it up to my room to eat alone.

**Buffy's POV**

I watch my child leave for upstairs, hugging the bowl of cereal close to their chest. Once they're gone, I link my hand with my husband's and pull him down the hall into the mudroom to get away from the kids who could listen. Declan is slowly lulling to sleep against my chest and body heat. He just woke up, but I suppose the tension of this morning is enough to tucker anyone out, even a baby who doesn't understand it. He's learning a lot really fast, taking in every colour and sound like a tape recorder that can't yet play anything back without crashing.

"Cara didn't say anything," I say to Marty.

"Why can't we just them them we know?" he asks. "I mean, it was pretty obvious. It was written on a cake."

I shake my head immediately. "I don't want her—them to feel like they have to tell us. I want them to come out when they're ready."

"Are you sure them correcting the cake wasn't their way of saying they're ready?"

"No, but—" I let out a sigh like a leaky balloon finally dying. "I don't know. I've never done this before. With Hazel, she straight-up stated to Andi and Amber that she was a girl. Cara's—Cara's not being direct. I don't know what to do."

I realize I'm getting worked up, for Declan begins to squirm as he does when I lose my stillness. I adjust my grip on the infant, making him comfortable against me again.

"I just think you're making a big deal out of this," Marty says.

"I just want Cara to feel comfortable with this—with us," I correct myself, "and everything."

"So what if they don't tell us directly?" he questions, poking a hole in my half-inflated plan.

"Then...then we'll figure that out later."

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

"It's pizza day!" I shout as I enter the home ec. room.

My friends, Cody and Jake, smile as they swarm around me to join me in my walk toward our regular section of the countertops. The room has sewing tables on one end and a kitchen on the other. I've never touched the sewing machines, but I do love things that can set other things on fire, so the ovens and stoves are my home. That's the reason why I joined cooking club in the first place, but also my friends and I liked the idea of getting free food twice a week.

"I'm so hyped!" Cody says. "I'll never have to talk to another delivery person again!"

"My parents don't let my use the oven at home," Jake explains, "so I'll still have to use delivery."

"I brought fake cheese," I say, taking out a block of it from my lunch bag and setting it down on the counter, "'cause real cheese is gross."

"I like cheese, though" Cody responds.

"We'll make half and half," Jake suggests.

"Can we make it catch on fire?" Cody asks.

"We let you do that with scones," I reply, "but pizza is different. Nobody cares about eating scones, but pizza matters."

Cody nods, although sadly, and Jake starts finding the pans we'll need out of the drawers. It's all going dandy setting up before the teacher gave us permission, until I suddenly see a new person walk into cooking club. I march over right away, leaving my friends without explanation. When Brayden sees me, he waves, throwing me off.

"What are you doing here?" I interrogate.

With a peppy smile, he replies, "I'm in cooking club now."

"Why? You don't like cooking."

"Looks good on college applications," he answers.

"You're in grade eight. That doesn't matter now."

"The sooner I start, the more edge I'll have on the competition."

Before I get to say more, the teacher glides into the classroom with a cook book under one armpit and his glasses risking the edge of his nose looking like a skier about to fall off the tip of a mountain. When he claps his hands, that's my signal to shut up, so I slap my mouth closed and huff back over to my friends while Mr. Clinkin yammers about the rules and the recipe for today. Once he's done, my friends and I don't waste any time. We start whipping and smacking our ingredients together, mimicking what they do on TV. Cody drops the dough while trying to do the flippy spinny thing by tossing it in the air, but we pick it up and blow it off. Nobody else saw anyway.

"Now to unveil our masterpiece," I announce.

Cody makes the timer shut up while I grab the oven door and yank it open. What a disappointment it is when the three of us see our pizza turned into a crispy, blackened mess.

"I don't get it," I say. "What did we do wrong?"

The room making "Ooooh" sounds peels my eyes upward, and I see everyone standing around Brayden with his pizza. It's perfect, golden, with beautifully placed vegetables and meats. His pizza could beat my pizza in a fist fight. And everyone is loving it as they bite into slices. It's annoying. He literally just joined cooking club.

"Ours is better," I say, folding my arms.

Then I realize that Cody isn't with Jake and me anymore. Instead, he's over with my cousin, trying his stupid pizza.

"This is amazing!" Cody says.

"My uncle gave me some tips before I came here," Brayden tells him.

My friend continues basking in his betrayal, stuffing his face with the pizza.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Sarah's lactose intolerant, ironic since she always suggests we get ice cream. Usually, she takes lactose pills, but she forgot them today, so I lick my strawberry ice cream cone while she rolls on her skateboard beside me. With the weather enhancing, she's swapped out her toque for a backwards snapback for spring, and she's dropped the hoodie in favour of a grey button-up tee, which she has half tucked in her black jeans. For some reason, that half-tucked detail makes the whole thing about ten times hotter, like, there was some precise carelessness involved, nothing overlooked. The wheels clack over the breaks in the sidewalk, which starts to tilt downward, and her board picks up seed.

"Slow down!" I say.

She grins back at me and shouts, "Speed up!"

"I'm on foot," I complain.

"Whose fault is that?"

She chuckles and keeps going, forcing me to have to run after her, holding my ice cream steady in my right hand. After a couple steps, Sarah quits bugging me and kicks her skateboard up into her hand then stands and waits for me to catch up, her eyes lacing through every layer of my image as I approach. When I finally make it to where she is, a pink-cheeked smile kisses her face.

"You have ice cream on your nose," she says.

My face burns hot as she raises her thumb up to wipe the cream off my snout. Then she drops her arm again and begins strolling ahead.

"I'll walk," she says, "just for you."

A smile sparkles on me as I join her. I enjoy another lick of my ice cream, which is interfered by the mind-freeze that happens when my her fingers tangle over my palm and lock in place. I don't do much to acknowledge it other than blush furiously, but that makes her grin. Under her other arm, she holds her skateboard.

"I wish I had learned how to skateboard," I say.

"Yeah, I have three older cousins, and I used to steal their boards to teach myself," Sarah explains.

"Did they know you took them?"

"Yes, but I was six. I never got in trouble. The most trouble I got in was from my grandma who said ladies don't skateboard."

"She sounds controversial," I respond.

Sarah laughs, and I lick my ice cream cone again, which ends with Sarah staring at me.

"Hazel—"

"Not again," I say, embarrassed, and reach up for my nose.

Sarah chuckles and shakes her head. "No. It's an eyelash."

She stops walking and turns to me, reaching up to my tomato cheek to pluck the lash away.

"Why am I a mess?" I question.

"'Cause I like you that way," Sarah responds.

That, of course, does nothing to relieve the red in my face, but Sarah doesn't mind. She carries forward, securing her hand with mine.


	119. S3 E12.2: The Icing on the Cake

**Cara's POV**

Aside from my newest brother, my middle one is the best at being completely unbothered by anyone else's problems, always with his head in a book cover, or playing some jazz songs on cassette. My parents haven't said anything about my gender yet, and I'm starting to fret. Maybe this brother would be the easiest, a practice round, you could say. Surely, he wouldn't even look up from his page.

I thought that would be a positive, but when I enter his room and sit on his bed, his head doesn't move from his book.

"Why are you wrinkling my quilt?" he asks without a shift in his look.

A buildup would be appropriate, wouldn't it? After all, you have to climb a hill before tumbling down it. What kind of a build up does one carry before coming out as non-binary.

"What'chu doing?" I wonder, my heart rattling in my ribs.

"Trying to look at the blueprints of the original Whitehouse before Canada burnt it down."

"Canada is cool," I say.

"Yes, I suppose if this is your standard, then it is."

Words. All I need to do is find them, but they're sunken under the reeling feelings of my stomach.

"How are things with your ex boyfriend?" I ask.

"I'm slowly moving on," he answers.

"Cool."

His eyes flip up to me, noticing how I haven't left, which widens the cleft between what I want to say and how much I am afraid. The churning in my gut forms a rut. I suppose this can wait till another day.

"I'll leave you alone," I mumble and get up to go.

Brayden holds me still with his curious self as he says, "You come here to bother me and nothing else? Classic little sister."

That alone is equivalent to a blow from a sword, and I have no shield. But I feel too weak to raise my weapons of correction. I let the blow go.

"Bye," I sigh and exit his room.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

_Slam!_ sounds from the front door. TJ shifts his eyes toward me at the kitchen table.

"Jayda's already home," he states.

"That's Wyatt?" I realize, surprised.

Our son, although certainly as dramatic, isn't usually as temperamental as our daughter. TJ and I walk down the hallway to see our son stomping up the stairs.

"Wyatt, honey, how are you doing?" I ask gently.

"Good," he huffs then seals himself inside his room.

TJ and I share a sigh before making our way upstairs. With a knock of announcement, TJ turns the knob, and the two of us step into Wyatt's bedroom where he lies red-faced on his bed, angry wrinkles stuck on his forehead.

"Your 'good' looks a lot like your 'not good,'" I say.

Wyatt sits up and explains, "It was cooking club."

"Don't you like cooking club?" TJ asks.

"Yeah, and I was good at it too," Wyatt huffs, "but then Brayden had to show up and make it stupid."

He folds his arms and snaps backward again on his bed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask after a moment of silence.

"No."

I nod and takes a step back, muttering, "Alright."

TJ tugs the door closed behind us after we leave, and I remain in the hall, sullen eyes gazing at the door. Soon, they switch onto TJ, who shrugs at my sight.

"What can we do," he says. "He's almost a teenager."

"It was so much easier when they were little," I pout.

"Yeah," TJ agrees, "but the challenge is more fun."

I look up at him, the simple view of his green eyes making me smile, his aquamarine green just the same as when we were fourteen. Maybe better, because I can see my own reflection in them now, like it's been there forever, like it has a home there. I let it reel me up onto my tiptoes to give him a kiss, light as June but warm as August.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

I'm in the middle of chemistry homework when I get a phone call.

"Hello?" I say.

"Yo," says Sarah. "Come outside."

"What?"

She hangs up. Confused, I leave my bedroom and head for the door, seeing my moms in the living room together. While they watch their home renovation show, Mommy looks over as I put on my white ballet flats.

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"Sarah's being mysterious and not explaining things," I respond.

I give them a wave as I open the door and step onto the porch. When I spin around, I see Sarah standing at the bottom of the steps holding her skateboard and a helmet. She never wears a helmet.

"What's going on?" I wonder.

"Lesson time," she answers.

"What?"

"You said you wished you learned how to skateboard," she reminds me.

"I didn't expect you to show up with a skateboard to teach me," I respond, my nerves already preparing myself for the embarrassment I'll no doubt be feeling when I mess up.

"So what? You don't wanna?"

She grins, which makes me cave, and I descend the stairs with a sigh.

"You better be a good teacher," I say.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

The helmet fits snug, pressing my bangs flat against my forehead, and Sarah's hand holds both of mine tight as I roll sideways on the skateboard. There are no handles; I don't know how I'm supposed to control this thing. Right now, Sarah's the only thing keeping me upright.

"Don't let go," I tell her.

She laughs and responds, "I'm not gonna. Don't worry."

I stare downward at the pavement as it zips by beneath the board.

"It's getting faster," I say, my voice wavering.

"Remember how to stop?" Sarah asks.

"Nope."

I start to panic when the ground turns to a blur, and the wind is enough to make my dress flutter as I roll to what I'm imagining is going to be a serious injury, but Sarah keeps her hands linked with mine.

"Sarah!" I shout over my pulse.

Sarah comes to my rescue, but rather than simply stopping me, she grabs my waist and fully lifts me up off the board and places me on the ground where I teeter from both dizziness and gayness. The skateboard carries on into a tree.

"We'll have to practice that some more," Sarah says.

"Really? I thought the method you used was quite effective."

She smiles at that, which makes my cheeks hot.

"Except now we have to get your skateboard," I note.

As I start toward the objective, Sarah winds her hand casually into mine. At this point, it just belongs there. Another try at skating puts me on the board rolling slower this time, with Sarah's hands holding mine again, but then she lets one of them go, and I force my body to stay straight without her help.

"You're doing good," she says. "You're balancing on your own."

"Yeah, I am," I say happily.

"Ready to let go?" she asks.

"I guess so."

She removes her hand from mine, and suddenly I'm skateboarding on my own, not falling. Of course, that changes when I try to turn and stumble off the board, which goes rolling in Sarah's direction. She stops it with her foot and stomps it up into her hand.

"You're way cooler than me," I say to that.

"Well, you're cuter than me, so it's even."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

As I pass by Cara's room, the lamp still on catches my attention, and I peer in to see them seated on their bed with a crossword puzzle spread open in front of them. As I enter, they notice my shadow and flinch, their eyes snapping up to me.

"You going to bed?" I ask.

"Yup," they reply.

They turn their head down again and continue filling in the squares of the page with letters. I wait for a moment for them to speak, but nothing. Still nothing. I don't understand why they still aren't saying anything. It's like they've completely shut down since their birthday, and I don't want to push them, but I can't keep staring at a black television screen waiting for it to flicker on again.

"How have you been recently?" I ask. "Anything new going on?"

Their hand freezes as they look up at me and lie. "No, not really."

"Okay," I mutter in a way that almost sucks some of the light out of this room.

I run my thumb through a strand of Cara's hair, pushing it out of their face, and their wide eyes watch me as I do that. Then I stand up and find my way out of their room to let them wade in their quietness.

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

"Kelsey, Brayden," Linny says as she wedges her way through the crowded hallway to get to us, "what are you guys doing now?"

"I have cooking club," I reply.

"You have cooking club again?" Linny echoes.

"Aren't you awful at cooking?" Kelsey questions.

"I've had personal growth," I respond as I step over a granola bar wrapper on the floor.

"In that case," Linny says, "make extra of whatever you're making today."

"I think it's clam chowder," I say.

"Oof. Never mind."

I smile at them and bid them goodbye before steering into the home ec. room. There, I spot Wyatt across the kitchen and wave to him, but he just stares. One of his friends, on the other hand—Cody, I think—darts up to me immediately and starts hounding me with inquiries.

"Hey, wanna work with us?" he asks.

Wyatt buzzes over at the sound of that to shout, "I told you we don't need him!"

The blunt disagreement takes me by surprise. I didn't expect the hostility my cousin is radiating right now. It curdles my excitement for this club. What problem does he have with me? I didn't do anything to him, as far as I recall.

"But he could help us, like, actually make it taste good," Cody argues, but Wyatt keeps his stance.

"We're fine. Plus, we have too many people already. Three's enough."

Cody looks over at me again, looking apologetic. "Sorry."

He steps away to follow Wyatt, leaving me both disappointed and perplexed.


	120. S3 E12.3: The Icing on the Cake

**Hazel's POV**

Sarah's glowing smile stands on the other side of the front door. She lifts the skateboard and helmet in one hand and other protective gear in the other.

"I brought knee and elbow pads this time," she says.

I smile at her reckless determination. I doubt I'm going to be as good as her ever, but she's very committed to teaching me. A few seconds later, my momma enters the kitchen from the hallway, and Sarah notices her and gives a slight bow with her head.

"Hi, ma'am," she says.

"Just call me Amber," Momma responds with a laugh.

"My bad, Amber ma'am."

My mom lets that one slide and carries on with her business of getting food.

"I'm just gonna go get my sweater," I tell Sarah.

I set off toward my bedroom, but as I pick up the knitted flower cardigan and spin around, I see Sarah standing in my room too, gazing at the walls, the leaf garland that drapes over my bookshelf, and the assortment of art projects in frames. I didn't even hear her follow me in.

"So this is what it looks like from this angle."

"Yeah."

I wouldn't be nervous, except that I realize my bedroom reveals a lot about myself as a person, and unfortunately it tells a bit more than I've told her. Anxiously, I wait for her to find the one specific item that is surely going to delay our next skateboard lesson a bit longer.

"Good to see there aren't any hockey ball dents in your walls," she says.

"Not yet," I reply with a smile, but I'm too nervous to make it look relaxed.

She walks by a collection of photos on my wall and lights up when she connects with one of them.

"Hey, I'm here," she says.

She examines the rest of the faces too.

"Oh, yeah. Those are my friends," I explain.

"Yeah, I've seen them park on the street before," Sarah tells me, and then she points at a photo. "This girl in the brown shirt can park flawlessly."

"That's Fatima," I say with a little chuckle. "She's amazing at driving. I'm decent, but still not the best at parking."

"Better than me, though," Sarah responds. "I can't drive for shit."

"But you skateboard instead."

"Not as fast, but more fun," she reasons.

Then she spots it. I know, because she does a double take. Her eyes linger on my bed frame, more specifically a sticker on my bed frame—the trans pride flag sticker on my bed frame.

"Cool stickers," she comments.

Her eyes pass on without bringing up the elephant in the room: I haven't told her I'm trans. It's not that I've been hiding it. it's just never come up, and that's not usually something you just throw into a sentence. ' _Yeah, I like ice cream, I'm trans, and Scrabble is fun.'_

"Yeah, um—yeah. I, um—I..." My words are completely jumbled to the point where I can't say anything. How inconvenient that the time I actually need to make sense, my nerves won't let me.

"You okay?" Sarah asks, coming over to me.

"Yeah, totally fine," I say. "But, um, you...are you..." _What am I even trying to ask?_ "Did you know I was trans?"

She sucks her lips in and looks downward, coming back up still biting her bottom lip as her eyes meet mine.

"Nah, I didn't," she answers quietly. "That's cool, though."

"I should've told you sooner," I say.

"Why should you have?" she challenges. "It doesn't change who you are."

I swear I literally stop breathing for a second. This girl doesn't care at all. That's a first for me. And I honestly don't know what to do with the insane bliss engulfing me as her frosty eyes calm my overworked anxiety.

"You're real, right?" I eventually whisper.

She laughs and takes a step forward, creating a gravitational pull like she's the moon and I'm the tides, and I'm practically fighting to not go floating off the shore.

"You're the prettiest girl that I've seen," she says. "Period."

Her pupils are big, like the actual sky. I count three: three silver specks in her grey-blue eyes. Then I let the waves crash as our lips connect, and her gravity wins me over. It's a perfect tsunami of energy, something that could crumble a city under its presence. The Old Spice in her hair drifts over, spreading the ocean fumes, convincing me that we really are that blue.

When the waves calm, and our waters pull apart, she opens her eyes and looks at me like she too needs a bit more proof that that just happened. A little giggling by us both, then a silence, and another wave hits.

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

Wyatt does little to acknowledge my presence during the cooking. At this point, I'm convinced he just despises me being here, yet I don't know why. Today is bread day, and I pair with two girls who do most of the work, but I do have to stop one of them from putting in double the necessary flour. Still, our bread is a fan favorite at the end. The whole class likes it, except of course Wyatt who stands across the kitchen staring at his own deflated bread. Leaving the crowd, I migrate over to him, pretending he's not avoiding looking at me. Beside him, Jake gazes longingly at my group's bread, his chin in his hands.

"How's yours?" I ask.

"Perfect," he spits. "Puffy bread is overrated."

I nod and examine the dead dough cube.

"I think you forgot the yeast," I say.

"I left it out on purpose," he argues.

"Oh. Then I apologize for assuming."

I wait, hoping he'll say something even mildly kind, to invalidate my assumption that he simply would rather I go—but he doesn't.

"I won't come next time," I say. "It's clear that you don't want me here."

"Good," Wyatt huffs.

"Dude," Jake says.

"What?" Wyatt responds.

"Next day is cake day," Jake informs him. "If you let him not come, I'm gonna be pissed."

"We were fine without him before he showed up and started doing everything better than us!" Wyatt fights. "We don't need him!"

It all unravels now, and guilt tangles my heart.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," I mutter.

Wyatt looks at me for moment before responding, "I don't. I feel nothing. Feelings are stupid."

"I didn't mean to make you feel inferior."

"You always do, though," he mumbles. "You're already smarter than me. I was at least a better cook. Now I'm not even that."

"But you're better than me at any sport you can name," I counter. "I can hardly walk without tripping."

"But why did you have to join cooking club?"

"I thought it would be fun," I confess,"doing something with you for a change."

My cousin goes quiet at that and looks down.

"Now I feel like a poop," he says.

"I'm sorry. We don't do much together often, if at all. Yeah, I wanted it on my transcript, but I figured seeing you would be a bonus."

Wyatt sighs then looks back up to ask, "Can you be less good?"

"Maybe instead we can work together next time?" I suggest.

"Only if we can make the cake chocolate blueberry explosion."

"You don't mean explosion in a literal sense, right?" I check.

"Well, it would be creative," he justifies.

"Nukes were creative too," I remind him. "Let's not."

"Fine," he accepts, "but you have to let me decorate."

"Deal."

________________________________________

**Cara's POV**

Andreas is brushing his teeth as I enter the washroom, foaming dripping, splashing his cheek as he aggressively scrubs at the nubs of bone. He looks at himself in the mirror and dabs his face clean, while I stand still, waiting for the right moment to kill my streak of being silent. This is what other people call an impulse decision. I call it a decision. Why should anything have forethought involved?

"Yo, what's up?" he asks obliviously.

My heart bangs like a gong, a suspenseful song I can't block out of my brain. Andreas spits in the sink, and behind that revolting noise, I speak.

"I'm non-binary."

Then he looks up at me and wipes his mouth clean, while my hands grip the edge of the counter anxiously.

"That's chill," he says, calm as a floating rosette. "Have you told Mom and Dad yet?"

A wind of relief blows over me, and my old worry seems so hollow, the way I wallowed in that fear. It's my brother here. Why would he ever even care?

"I tried to," I answer. "I don't think they got it."

"What did you say?"

What did I say? A lot. Well, not in a verbal way.

"Nothing I guess. I wrote 'they' in my cake."

"That's why my piece was all smushed?"

He grabs a purple cup of water which he gurgles, swishes, and dishes back out into the sink.

"What do I do now?" I ask in the quiet of the dripping drain.

"My best suggestion: tell them with, like, actual words."

It's fantastic advice, it truly is. It would be better if it weren't so strenuous, for my unruly mind doesn't like the confines of being stuck inside, but it refuses to be unearthed. Maybe I'll simply need to grab my shovel and risk the hurt.

________________________________________

**Cara's POV**

My parents cuddle close on the couch. I spill onto the cushions myself, back slouched. Their eyes turn to me, and my dad pauses the TV.

"Hey," Mom greets.

"Hey," I repeat. "I need to tell you guys something."

Their eyes, flooding wonder, almost overflow, while I try not to choke on my own tongue as I work the words up into my throat. It's almost out. Just a little farther.

"I—um—I'm—" I give up, and my pulse aches. "Did you not see the cake?"

Finally some smiling from my dad to my mom.

"I told you they were trying to tell us with the cake."

I'm on the verge of tears as soon as I hear him say 'they.' And then the tears fall free, and my parents scoot toward me, my mother's arm wrapping my shaking shoulders, and I hug my knees.

"You know we love you always," she says.

"I know," I confess. "I was scared, though."

"Why were you scared?" Mom asks.

"I don't know. I was scared you might not believe me."

"Well, I'll tell you a secret," she begins. "It makes a lot of sense."

I laugh, no longer tense.

My dad smiles by her side, and I say, "I love you guys."

"We love you too," Dad replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you guys liked this episode! I'm excited for you all to read the last three, because we have some wild plots coming. Also, season four...I'm so excited. Yeah, so that's all. I hope school is going well. Uh, I went on a date recently, so that was interesting. Haven't done that in a while lol. Also, I decided to switch my shopping addiction onto homeware items, since me and my best friend are probably going to try to move out in 3-ish years, or whenever we're done school, and I figured it's a better use of my money to buy things I actually need. If anyone is interested in sustainable and ethical but also really cool homeware goods, my two new favorite websites are thelittlemarket.com and vivaterra.com. Anyway, have a wonderful day!


	121. S3 E13.1: The Birds and the Geese

**Cyrus's POV**

The cup cupboard is just a cupboard when I open it up. The shelves are a vacant hotel, which unfortunately I can't drink water out of.

"TJ," I say as I glance back at my husband who's reading a sports magazine at the island, "did you empty the dishwasher?"

"Yeah."

I look back to the empty cupboard then to him again. "Where did you put all the glasses?"

"Right there," TJ confirms. "That's all of them."

"There are none here."

TJ nods like he already knew that and says, "There weren't any in the dishwasher either."

"Then where—?" I let out a sigh as I realize the answer. "Jayda."

I march out of the kitchen and ascend the stairs to get to her bedroom where I open the door to see a desk cluttered with cups. I don't think she could even do homework on here anymore with how full it is, but I suppose she doesn't do much homework anyway. I gather a few of them in my arms to start and turn to exit, but with the glasses making me have to bend backward to keep them from falling, I bump into Jayda's coat hanger and accidentally knock Andreas's jacket that he left here onto the ground. I set the glasses back down on the desk with a tired breath and kneel down to pick up the jacket, but right as my hand shifts the fabric, I notice something fall out of the inside pocket, and I drop the coat again, in shock. My focus flips as I pluck the small, square package from the ground, realizing what this probably means.

"TJ!" I shout, my voice wavering awkwardly as I shoot to my feet.

A second later, my husband appears in the doorway, responding, "Yeah?"

"Do you need me too?" comes Wyatt.

I hide my hand behind my back in an instant and shake my head, replying, "No, no, not you. This is a private talk."

"Fine," my son huffs. "I'll just listen through the wall."

While he leaves, I grab TJ's arm and tug him into the room before smacking the door shut. I whip around, faster than I intended, for now I probably seem more stressed than I'm trying to be, and I lift up the condom for TJ to see. His eyes flash confusion for a split second before pouring open as the situation hits him.

"I found this," I state.

"Where?"

"In Andreas's jacket that he gave to Jayda."

TJ was obviously not prepared for this, judging by the way he runs his nervous hands through his hair. I am a guidance counsellor for many teenagers who end up talking to me about this kind of thing, so I figured my kid would do it at some point too, but when I came in to bring her dishes to the dishwasher, I certainly wasn't expecting this plot twist.

"Wait," TJ says, freezing for a moment. "Was it hers or his?"

I furrow my brows. "Does it matter?"

"Yes, because if it's his, then maybe it was for someone else, and she's not..."

Before he finishes his jittery-breathed sentence, I cut in. "You'd rather he be cheating than she be—?"

"Yeah," he interrupts bluntly. Hearing how irrational that sounds, he brings his hands to cover his face and lets out a huge sigh. Once calmed down a bit, he drops his head again to look at me and continues. "I know teenagers do this, but Jayda's..."

"She's our teenager," I finish for him.

I give TJ a soft smile, going against his sunken eyes.

He shakes his head, muttering to himself, "Oh my God. What do we...like..."

"I'm not sure what to do with this information we now know either," I admit.

"Ban Andreas from the house?" TJ suggests.

I pause, absorbing the absurdity of that before replying, "We'll call that plan B...or plan Z." I release a breath and ask a question, hoping for a more helpful answer this time. "Should we talk to her?"

"I don't know," TJ responds, exasperated and annoyed. "I don't even want to believe it. We didn't do this when we were her age."

"But we did—"

"Yeah, I know we did," he cuts me off, only getting more stressed.

"Should I put it back?" I wonder.

"So they can do it again?"

"They're gonna do it anyway," I reason.

I press the package firmly between my thumb and finger, trying to figure out what to do next. The problem is, I've only heard of this situation from the teen's end, never from the parents'. What does a good parent do now?

**Jayda's POV**

After stepping up my porch toward my front door, I gaze back at Andreas who still has his eyes on me while he lets his car engine run. I give him one last wave, and he gives me a grin, and then I enter my house, falling back, smiling, on the door as it swings closed. But then I hear the rumble of my dads talking upstairs. It echoes in indiscernible mumbles through the vents, but they're speaking pretty fast. I don't really care about that, but I'm pretty sure that vent is connected to the one in my bedroom, so um, why are they in there?

"Hello?" I call out as I go upstairs.

When I push open my door, my dads both look at me like scared cats.

"What's going on?" I question.

"Uh, just taking your dishes from your room," Daddy answers quickly.

He hurries toward my desk and picks up a pile of glasses. My other dad copies him, grabbing the rest, and they both rush out. I stand in confusion for a solid minute before eventually deciding it's going to hurt my head too much to try to figure this out, and I move on. Of course, that only lasts for about a second before I trip on Andreas's jacket on the floor, and when I reach down to pick it up, I see the real reason they were in here.

"Shit," I mutter.

I pick it up and shove it back inside the jacket pocket. I didn't even realize it was there. _Andreas, you idiot._ What am I supposed to say? Shit, are they going to want to talk about it? Ugh!

Flustered and definitely overheating from embarrassment, I shut my bedroom door and get ready to live in here away from my dads for the rest of eternity.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

"Dang it."

Curious, I make my way from the kitchen to Andi's studio where I see a glass jar shattered on the floor and Andi looking down on it, upset. I carefully step around the glass to get over to my wife.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replies, but she sounds less than fine, drained. "I just—I guess my hand just— I don't know."

When she crouches down to start picking up the bigger shards from the floor, I kneel to join her. It's subtle, but her right hand seems to stutter for a moment when she grabs one piece, but it fades almost immediately. Something must be bothering her, but she hasn't mentioned anything happening recently.

"I'll get the vacuum," I say.

"Thanks."

Andi stands up and dumps her hand of glass into the garbage can then brushes her hair out of her eyes, back into her barrette. The flyaway strands highlight her frown, making me wary of leaving yet.

"Are you doing okay?" I ask her.

"Yeah," she responds, putting on a slight smile. "Just kinda tired. I don't know why."

"Did you sleep okay?" I wonder.

"Yeah, no, I slept great. I think it's just one of those days."

I nod then remember what else we have to do today. "Are you still good to take Brayden to his high school open house?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she assures me. "I'm not that tired."

"Okay. Just making sure."

"Yeah. Um, I'll help you get the vacuum."

She steps on ahead of me, clearly more anxious to get the broken glass cleaned up than I am, and I follow her out.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Marty is watching some show in the living room about guys with guns and maybe some anger issues—I don't know. I'm just watching him watch it while I text with one of the athletes I manage. But all of that is interrupted when my nine-year-old comes marching in front of us with a smile and a chirpy posture.

"I have an idea for tomorrow," they announce.

"You do?" I respond, leaning forward on the couch.

"We can go to Adrenaline City," they say. "We haven't been there since last year."

"Well, I was there yesterday for work," Marty replies as he pauses his show.

"We already have plans for tomorrow, remember?" I say.

Cara puts on a face of fake surprise, but I know they know what I'm talking about.

"Plans?" they say innocently.

"Your appointment with the gender therapist," I say.

"Right," they mutter. 

"What's with the sad voice?" Marty asks.

Ignoring the question, Cara makes a new proposition: "How about the zoo?"

"Come here," I say.

I tap the cushion beside me, and Cara trudges over to it and plops down, limp like a piece of spaghetti.

"This was your idea. You were excited yesterday. What are you afraid of?" I ask.

They throw up their defences immediately as they argue, "I'm not afraid! How dare you make such an assumption!"

"It's the same therapist Hazel saw," Marty informs Cara, "and she loves her."

"That doesn't mean she'll love me," Cara replies.

I shake my head at that and say, "You are such a wonderful, bright kid. She'll love you."

"She'll be one of few," they mutter so quiet that I almost miss it.

My mom instincts leap out in an instant.

"What do you mean?" I interrogate.

Cara just shrugs. "At school..."

"What's happening at school?" Marty questions, looking almost as upset as me.

"Some kids are just plain ignorant," Cara states, "and it's honestly painful to witness."

"You do have friends, though," I ask. "Don't you?"

"Sort of. Not really. They're all dumb anyway."

While Cara stares downward, their hair falls over their face, like a cloud over the sun. Naturally, I reach up and brush it behind their ear, letting the light out again.

"Soon they'll see how amazing you are," I tell them. "Until then, you have an appointment tomorrow."

"Seriously?" they whine. Then they look at Marty, hoping for a different answer. "Dad!"

"Haven't you learned that I just repeat what your mom says?" Marty replies.

While Cara releases a groan, Marty gives me a crooked grin with sparkling eyes, making me smile right back.


	122. S3 E13.2: The Birds and the Geese

**Amber's POV**

Brayden eyes Andi and me as we each take bags of popcorn from the table in the school foyer that's giving them out to the students and parents at the open house. Marty and Buffy both had to do work today, so Brayden asked us to take him here instead. But I figured the high school open house would be at Grant, the same place his brother and cousins are at, not at Pierson High, a school for advanced learners. I'm pretty sure the IQ scores of the kids here are higher than my annual income.

"Do you want popcorn?" I ask Brayden.

He shakes his head. "I don't need food for simple folk."

"What would you rather have?" Andi questions.

"Something with more character, more sophisticated."

"What? Like lobster?" she jokes.

"Well, I would be impressed."

Andi and I both snack on our popcorn while Brayden begins going into the first classroom. Aside from a single red whiteboard marker, the rest of the classroom is brown—brown curtains, brown desks, brown posters about proper classroom etiquette. Other teenagers gaze around while their parents hound the teachers about the learning curriculum.

"The desks are an average size," Brayden notes. "I wouldn't be able to fit all my books on it at once."

"Why don't you just go to Grant?" Andi brings up. "It has bigger desks. And it's where your brother goes."

"Because if I take at least two AP classes next year, I can go here, and here looks much better on college applications."

"You're going into grade nine," Andi says. "I'm sure collages won't care what high school you were at."

"I find it fascinating that you have that opinion, considering you weren't even intending on going to Grant," Brayden counters.

"That's true, but I did," Andi counters.

"Wasn't there something about geese that hindered your ability to attend?" Brayden wonders.

"Yeah," Andi confirms, recalling the event that I'm ultimately so thankful for, since we wouldn't have gotten together if it hadn't happened. "A whole bunch of them started nesting in SAVA, and you can't legally move geese nests, so the school had to shut down for eight years until they stopped living in there."

"Geese are nettlesome," Brayden comments, not bothering to explain to his two less intelligent aunts what that means. Then his eyes catch elsewhere. "An electric pencil sharpener?"

He walks off toward the other side of the classroom wedging through the other children so seamlessly that it's honestly a little alarming. Once he's finished examining the rest of the objects in the room, he takes us into the theatre. As soon as we enter, I can tell he's much more intrigued by this, although it's not especially amazing to me. Medium size, all black, spotlights that hang over the stage. Props for a medieval-looking town are set up, and four students are doing improv between them to display their talent for the few kids who actually care. I hope this isn't their whole improv club, but if everyone here is focused solely on academics, then I suppose it makes sense that no one else would be willing to give up their precious homework time to do a gravely underfunded art.

"It's spectacular!" Brayden exclaims.

"It's nice," I respond, but then I notice the shiny red curtains, and yeah, it's pretty good. "Are your friends coming here with you for school?"

"I don't think so," Brayden replies.

"Where are they going?" Andi wonders.

"They're going to Grant."

"So you'll be in theatre club without them," Andi concludes.

"Yes," Brayden confirms. "But that's not the end of the world. We don't need to be in the same school to be friends."

The interesting part of his statement, is it was completely voluntary, not reacting to anything. He's really just trying to convince himself, not even us.

"Of course not," Andi agrees, "but it helps."

"Well, I haven't decided anything yet," Brayden says, his eyes dropping toward the floor.  
________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Dinner is... Let's just say I'd rather be sitting in a bathtub of broken glass right now. Like, I didn't realize awkwardness made noise before now, but HOLY SHIT, it's frickin loud. My dads eat silently, their forks clinking on their plates every time they go in for another scoop. I can't even eat at all with my stomach folding like a frickin acrobat. My brother is completely oblivious to the situation, and he just looks between me and our dads, eventually having the nerve to point it out.

"Why aren't we talking?"

"We are talking," Daddy answers like a liar.

"You just started now," my brother challenges.

Daddy just nods at that and stuffs another fork of mushrooms in his mouth.

"Fine. I'll talk," Wyatt huffs. He sits up straight, imitating the way Daddy usually is at dinner, and folds his hands gracefully on the table. "Jayda, how was your day today?"

"Good," I say a bit too fast.

"What did you and Andreas do?"

That makes Papa cough as he almost chokes on his food, and I go paralyzed, avoiding my dads' eyes. _How much does Wyatt know?_

"Um, what do you mean?"

Wyatt furrows his eyebrows. "You were out with him, weren't you?"

Although I'm trying not to look at it, I still see the blur of my dads staring at me, awaiting my answer.

"Oh, yeah, right," I remember. "Um, we went downtown."

"Was it nice down there?" Daddy asks.

Papa turns to look at him, his eyes unnaturally freaked out, and I shift in my seat, trying to alleviate some of this insane discomfort we're all feeling right now.

"I mean did you like it down there?" Daddy corrects himself, but that gets my other dad even more on edge. "I mean was it good—I'm gonna stop talking."

Daddy stares down at his food and hurries to get more in his mouth.

"What about you, Papa?" Wyatt asks. "Did you do anything today? Learn anything new?"

Papa's face flushes instantly as he relies with a nervous chuckle, "Uh, no. What would I learn?"

"You always tell me to learn one new thing every day," Wyatt says.

I make the mistake of looking at Papa, and when I do, we make eye contact. I quickly look down again, ignoring the coldness he is radiating. _Seriously, where's a tub of glass when you need one?_

"Yeah, I learned something, alright," Papa mumbles.

I freeze, my insides convinced they're in a free fall. I can't tell if he's mad at me or disappointed or what, but I know I don't like it.

"What was it?" Wyatt asks obliviously.

Papa coughs again and clears his throat before saying, "I thought I knew this recipe, but it turns out it was spicer than I remembered."

I don't know if that was aimed at me, but it doesn't matter. I'm uncomfortable. I rise from my chair and grab my plate from the table.

"I'm gonna take my dinner to my room."

Immediately, Daddy says, "No, stay," but at the exact same time, Papa mutters, "Good idea."

With my chin down, I leave the dining room, but the gross feeling stays.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

The sun is finally rising as I come out from the ensuite, and it blooms on the back of Andi's lilac dress as she zips it up. Once her fumbling fingers have successfully sealed the garment, she turns, and at the sight of me, she trips over one foot and nearly wipes out. Thankfully, she catches herself on the dresser, taking a moment before straightening up again. Although she's stable, my worry still remains.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Yeah," she says. "I don't know why, I'm just clumsy today." She grabs a crochet vest off the bed frame and heads for the door, saying, "Let's go," but I catch her hand.

"How about we order delivery instead."

"But you've been wanting to go to this place for brunch for a while now. Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It seems like you could use some rest."

"I'm fine, really."

"Really?"

"Yes."

She's proven wrong the second she takes a step toward me and wobbles a little. I automatically take her hands and pull them steady.

"Nope. Get back in bed," I order.

"Alright," she complies, going back to the mattress, "but you're not gonna take care of me."

I smile sweetly as I reply, "I love how you think I'll listen. I'll order the food."

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

When Walker knocks on the Driscolls' door, Marty shouts from inside. It's muffled by the walls, but she's loud enough that I hear it.

"Buffy, can you get that? It's getting to a good part!"

"I'm nursing! You're watching a show! Which thing is more important!"

A minute later, the door is opened by Marty who motions us in, and we remove our shoes and join him in the living room.

"Hey, sorry, I already started watching," he says.

"That's okay," I respond. "How far in are you?"

Marty glances at the television then over at us, answering, "Uh, fifty-six minutes."

Walker lets out a sigh and lowers down into a chair, saying, "Guess we'll start on episode 2."

As Marty is about to press play, Brayden suddenly comes up the stairs and blocks the TV, holding a stack of papers.

"Dad, can you proof read my essay?" he asks.

"Brayden, you're going into high school," Marty responds, confused. "You don't need to write an essay."

"I want to show that I'm a supreme choice," Brayden explains.

"Yeah, you did a school hunt, right?" Walker recalls. "How'd that go?"

"S'well," Brayden answers. "I'm going to Pierson."

That throws me off. "Not Grant?"

"No. I'm not basic."

"What about your friends?" I ask.

"They're going to be around," Brayden states, "just not at school." Then he looks away from me and back at Marty. "Dad, essay?"

"Sure," Marty agrees.

He takes the pages from Brayden's hands, but before Marty can start skimming the first one, Brayden's stare narrows on the stack, and he speaks up.

"Wait, I'm missing a page. There should be eight."

"I have to get chips anyway, so I can grab it," Marty says.

"Thank you."

Marty gets up and heads up the stairs, leaving Brayden standing casually while Walker and I watch him. I know he's, like, a genius or something, but I wouldn't want to go to a school without my friends, so I don't get why he would. Maybe it's a smart person thing.

"What's special about Pierson?" I ask him.

Brayden sounds like he has his answer prepared as he says, "It's known for its outstanding academic achievement."

"So a bunch of smart kids go there," I summarize. "That doesn't change how well _you_ do."

"It shows that I'm smart too," Brayden reasons. "It's the power of association."

"Well, I'm sure you'll like it then," I give up. I guess it is a smart person thing.

"Yeah," Brayden agrees, but it's not confident like the practiced answers. It's duller. Usually I don't pick up on those things, but having my own kid has forced me to pay a bit more attention.

Walker notices it too and asks, "Why do I get the sense you didn't mean that?"

Brayden takes a second before giving the answer, "It's a great school. And I need it if I want to get into college."

"The University of Shadyside isn't that hard to get into," I respond.

"I don't want to go there," Brayden corrects me.

"Then where do you want to go?" I question.

"University of Pennsylvania."

Walker gives me a glance, but I don't get why.

"Philadelphia," Walker says.

Brayden's expression goes weak, resulting in him sitting down on the couch behind him, but I'm smiling.

"You like the Philles too?" I say in happy surprise.

"Or," Walker corrects me, "he likes Deion."

That makes a lot more sense. "Ohhhhh."

Brayden looks down at his hands, letting the paused TV screen flicker in silence for a while until he finally speaks.

"We can't be together now, but once I'm in college, I can go there, so that we can."

"You know you can do that even if you go to school with your friends," Walker tells him.

"But what if I can't?" Brayden responds, his eyes like mush.

"Do you talk to Deion often?" Walker questions.

Brayden shakes his head. "Rarely. He has other friends now. It's only been a few months, but he's already forgotten about me."

"Well, he couldn't stay hung up on you forever," I chime in. "That would hurt like hell."

Brayden is quiet at that for another second.

"That's not fair," he says, tears beginning to poke through his eyes. "I can't forget about him."

"You don't have to forget about him," Walker says. "Just tuck the memories away and be open to making new ones with other people. But the best memories will be at a high school where you actually have fun being there."

"Go wherever you want," I say, "but make sure it is where you want to go."

Walker gives me a smile, like he's proud of me, even though I'm just repeating what I heard on a talk show once. Still, my statement makes Brayden think, until he eventually stands up with a sigh.

"Well, excellent," he huffs sarcastically. "Now I have to rewrite my essay."


	123. S3 E13.3: The Birds and the Geese

**Cara's POV**

The floorboards are wide, like I could balance on just one if the rest were to fall away. Hopefully they won't, although I don't trust it inside. My parents sit next to me on the plastic chairs, while I'm scared. Not scared like Halloween, but scared of how this will be. I've never spoken to anyone about how I feel before, and I would rather not start now, but we're already downtown.

"This place smells like an old person's house," I spout.

"Is that good?" Dad wonders.

"No. Old people die."

The door to one of the offices opens, smooth as sifted sand. She has a silver clip in silver hair and giant rings on her hand.

"Hi," she says with a smile. "I'm Carloline. Are you my new client?"

"Cara," I state as I stand up and fold my arms, looking at her skeptically.

"It's nice to meet you," Mom says, getting up to shake the lady's bony hand.

"Do you have candies?" I question.

Caroline looks down at me and tells me, "I have chocolates."

"What a disappointment," I mutter.

"Be polite," my mom says.

"We don't know her," I argue. "She could be a murderer."

"I assure you I am not," Caroline promises. "You can come take a seat, and you'll get to know that."

She gestures for me to enter her office, but I shove my hands in my hoodie pockets and look back in desperation.

"What about the roller rink?" I say. "Or The Spoon?"

My suggestions all fall through, but my mom at least sighs with sympathetic eyes.

"You don't have to do this is you really don't want to," she says, "but I really think you should."

"Mom, I could, but I don't know. I'm scared."

"It's okay to be scared," Mom says with a hand on my shoulder, "but sometimes fear is a sign that you're doing the thing that will make you grow most."

I take a breath and turn around to look at Caroline without the skeptical gaze.

"Better not be dark chocolate," I say as I enter the office space.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

Cyrus is reading a novel that he bought over two years ago and is only now getting to. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have picked it up if I hadn't joked about him not reading it yet. I think he wants to prove me wrong. I don't care. It's cute. I'm on the other end of the couch, reading this magazine aimed for firefighters that my friend at the station got me for my birthday. I kind of get enough work at work, so I don't really want to read about it, but I'm trying to not waste the gift.

A crunch turns both our heads over the back of the couch, and my pulse becomes a snare drum at the sight of Jayda attempting to sneak past us toward the stairs with a chip bag. She failed, but I wish she hadn't. I feel like I should say something, but the discomfort is debilitating. She's been avoiding me since last evening, and I don't blame her. I've been trying to figure out what I'm going to say when this silence eventually ends, but I haven't gotten that together yet.

She flinches as soon as we look at her, knowing she's been seen. And then her eyes accidentally meet mine, and she instantly rushes up the stairs without a word. When her door closes, so does Cyrus's book, and he looks in disappointment at me as he sighs.

"I've talked to multiple students about similar situations, but for some reason I'm still not prepared to talk to my own kid," Cyrus says.

"At least you said good morning to her," I reply. "I just breathed heavy and went the other way."

"You're not overreacting anymore, though, so that's progress."

"No, I'm still overreacting. That's my daughter, and now she's..." I hesitate, not sure where my emotions were trying to go with that statement. "Now when I look at her, all I think about is that she's not a virgin. I don't know if it was gullible of me to think she was, but I thought maybe there was one teenager who still wanted to wait until they're at least a legal adult. She's seventeen. Almost eighteen, but still not. Maybe it's just 'cause she's mine, but she seems way too young to have lost her virginity."

"I know," Cyrus agrees. "What makes this exceedingly more uncomfortable is that we likely know who it was with."

Perfect timing, because—and I can't make this shit up—a minute later, Andreas enters in through the front door, which of course Jayda forgot to lock. He gives us both a wave, clearly oblivious to the situation.

"'Sup," he says.

I try to keep my voice as calm as I can, and not let my anger bubble out, as I respond, "Not a good time, Andreas."

He nods and pulls the door open again to leave, muttering, "This is why I prefer the window."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

I'm in the middle of writing a tragic nineteenth-century novella on my laptop when Cara gets home and springs onto my bed with a smile. They make the whole mattress bounce. When they stick their face up next to my head, I shut my laptop, deciding they're not going to go away.

"Good evening," I say.

"I went to gender therapy and didn't hate my life!" they exclaim.

"Marvellous. I'm proud of you. How was it?"

I sit upright and face them while their criss-cross legs shove my bedding into wrinkles.

"I talked about amphibians mostly," they reply. "I don't think that's what I was supposed to spend an hour talking about, but she asked what my interests were."

"Sounds like your dream," I comment with a mild laugh.

"What did you do today?" Cara asks me.

"I reflected," I answer. "I decided I'm going to Grant."

"Not your smart people school?"

I shake my head. "I don't need to leave my friends. I wouldn't want to anyway."

"I'm proud of you," the say, copying my earlier statement.

When they smile, I smile back. I can't remember the last time we two just sat and talked like siblings. I suppose now that they're getting older, it's a bit easier to understand them, even though I do question what goes on in their neon mind at times.

"I wonder if Andreas did anything big today like us," I say.

"Andreas got excited about finding a double Mini-Wheat in his cereal this morning," Cara answers with a smirk. "Anything's big for him."

I laugh along with them. Once calmed quiet, their hair has spilt over their face, so they part it like faded yellow curtains to get it out of the way. They have beads strung in it, as though it's a friendship bracelet for theirself. I can see the angst starting to bud in their slightly edgy outfit choice—black jeans, chain belt, baggy sweatshirt—but I suppose neither Andreas nor I have had and edgy phase yet, so at least one Driscoll has to do it.

"You're becoming much more enjoyable as you age," I comment.

"Thanks," they say with a grin. "You're still a nerd."

I should've expected that. "Of course."

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

By now, it's well into dusk, and it's the first time Jayda's walked past the living room again since the last. I hear the shuffling as she rushes down the hall into the kitchen, and while she's there, I set my book down on the couch and bring my eyes up to TJ's. His eyebrows are rippled from his gloomy mood. I know he wants to do what a good dad should, but he's having trouble separating himself from his emotions right now. I am too, I admit, but I know this can't be procrastinated forever. We have to simply acknowledge it, accept it, and move on.

"We should talk to her," I whisper.

"I think I still need more time," TJ responds.

"We can't keep putting this off," I tell him.

"Really?" he says awkwardly. "I'd be cool with that."

"No."

There's no more time to discuss it, for Jayda steps out of the kitchen, a little bowl of walnuts in hand, and she's almost at the stairs. I stare at her, but she ignores it, going to her room.

"I didn't start speaking, huh?" I realize.

"Nope," TJ confirms.

"Crud."

I pick up my book and try to continue reading, but I forget what part I'm at, and I can't focus enough to figure it out. I feel horrible. I should be able to talk to my daughter about this. I don't know why it's so difficult.

All of a sudden, Jayda stomps around the couch and stops in front of me and TJ with her arms crossed and a look of exasperation.

"Okay, this is super awkward, and I just need you guys to say something!" she begs. "Yell at me! Lecture me! Literally do anything but ignore it!"

TJ and I are both caught completely off guard. I didn't expect her to want to talk about it at all. I thought I would have to force her to. But she just looks done with this tension. She finally wants to resolve it, and I really do too. Unfortunately, TJ is still afraid.

"Ignoring what?" he asks, pretending everything's fine, but Jayda sees right through it.

"Oh my God! Do I really have to say it?"

"Jayda, sit down," I request calmly, contrasting with her frustration.

"I can't," she denies. "I need to be able to run away fast if this gets too weird."

"Fair enough," I accept. I take a moment to gather my thoughts before letting them out. "Jayda, we're not going to comment on your choices about what you want to do with Andreas and...your body..."

"Getting weird," Jayda mutters.

"We just want to make sure that you're being safe."

"We are," she states.

"Good," I respond. "Well, we trust you to make good decisions. And we want you to know that if you have any questions or anything, you can ask us."

She nearly laughs at that. "Right, I'm gonna ask two gay men about straight sex."

"We aren't clueless," TJ chimes in. "The education system is heteronormative as hell."

Jayda chuckles a little at that as an actual smile forms on TJ's face, and she unfolds her arms, setting the last drop of tension free.

"You guys are being way cooler about this than I thought," she says.

"Did you think we would be mad at you?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I don't know. I lowkey expected Papa to have a tantrum."

"Oh, I'm holding it in," TJ says.

Jayda nods and takes a step back, saying, "Cool, and on that note, I'm going out with Andreas."

"You're really pushing this cool dad thing," TJ tells her.

"It's not 10:00 yet," she justifies as she starts strapping her high heels on at the front door.

"You better be back before then," TJ says.

"Totally," she responds automatically and pulls open the door.

TJ shouts, "I'm serious!"

"Love you!"

She pulls the door shut, and TJ looks at me with sagging eyes.

"Can they just follow the damn 10:00 pm rule, since he already broke the other one?" he utters.

I give my husband a gentle smile before asking, "Do you want me to make tea?"

He lets out a heavy breath, pausing before answering, "Yeah, tea would be nice."

I nod and stand up right as a rustle in the tree outside the window sounds, and suddenly Andreas drops down onto the lawn before running to Jayda's car. TJ and I share a glance, then I carry on, moving faster.

"I'll try to make it fast," I say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Because I was able to get ahead, you are getting two updates this week. Episode 14 will be on October 9, and episode 15 (the season finale) will come out on Thanksgiving (October 12). My poem went over well in my first critique. The kids who usually say basically rewrite parts of people's poems were silent with mine, so that was nice. I love you all. Have a lovely week. I'll see you on Friday.


	124. S3 E14.1: Wyatt's Snowstorm

**Amber's POV**

When Andi and I first moved in together, when we were just married and had about enough cash to buy a tea kettle and that's it. My favorite thing about it was getting to open my eyes in the morning and see her. Here, now, that's still the same. It's cloudy today, but she's a light on her own, sitting up, back facing me, in her baby blue sleep tank.

"Good morning," I whisper.

Without looking back, she responds, quiet as a butterfly's wings, "Good morning."

With the instant burst of energy she always delivers to me, I sit up and crawl over to her side of the bed where her legs hang over the edge. I come up from behind and kiss her cheek, letting my love leak out for an extra second before retreating, realizing she's still as stone.

Concerned, I ask, "Are you okay?"

I feel like that's all I've been asking recently. 

"Yeah," Andi replies. "Fine. I, uh— My leg's still asleep."

I untuck my knees from under my bottom and settle beside her, analyzing her leg myself. It looks normal, but for some reason, I'm still worried.

"How long have you been awake?" I wonder.

"Not long."

"Didn't this happen yesterday?"

"It went away soon," she assures me. "I just have to wait again."

"Okay," I accept, only because I don't know what pressing further would help with. "Do you want me to bring you breakfast?"

"Uh, sure. Thanks."

I smile and give her another sugar-glazed kiss, this time on her lips.

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

My dads' bowls of oatmeal rattle as I smack the paper from school down on the kitchen table.

"Don't real it," I tell them, "but can you initial here to show that you read it?"

Papa yanks the page out from under my hand, and I'm too weak to stop him.

Confused, he asks, "How are you failing art?"

"What?" Daddy says.

"I took the class to try to mix a new colour," I explain, annoyed, "but apparently all the colours have already been discovered."

Daddy frowns. "I'm disappointed in your school's science curriculum."

"Can you just sign it?"

Papa ignores my request and keeps reading the letter. I bounce on my feet while I wait anxiously for him to be done.

"You're going to have to retake the class in summer school," he suddenly says.

"What?" I react in shock, grabbing the paper back to see.

"Did you even read it?" Daddy asks.

"No! Why would I? I thought I knew what it said!"

Daddy sighs and stirs his oatmeal while Papa takes back the paper again.

"You're getting 34%," Papa reads then looks up at me, "but there's a final project worth 20% still, so if you do well on that, you could pass the class." Papa glances at Daddy and checks, "Right?"

Papa shows Daddy the page, and Daddy nods.

"Yes," he replies, "because he currently has 43%."

"Oh," Papa responds.

"How am I going to do well in art?" I complain, getting the attention back on me. "I've never made anything artistic in my life!"

"You have an aunt who's an artist," Daddy states. "I'll call Andi and see if she'd be willing to help you after school."

He gets up and walks around the kitchen island toward the phone, and I look at Papa with a question.

"How long will this take?" I ask. "Me and Cody have plans to spray paint ducks tonight."

"As long as it takes," Papa answers.

Then Daddy whips around to kill the fun, saying, "And you're not spray-painting ducks!That's animal abuse!"

________________________________________

**Cara's POV**

Eight bracelets in total, four on each wrist, the weight of handcuffs. My backpack bends my spine, making my muscles tough. Or just messing them up. My shoes stomp heavily on the muddy tiles as I make my way to my cell.

Honestly, school wouldn't be that bad if I didn't hate almost everyone here. If you think I'm exaggerating, I regret to inform you that you are incorrect. You see, I'm queer, and queer here is, I guess, not the best. Most people don't care at all, but the ones who do care enough for them all. Those poopheads who puff out their chests while whispering rumours they made up on their way to the classroom, I despise them.

The instant I step into class, my eyes are drawn to the back where Ehan sits in his desk, surrounded by three of the poopheads. Devin pinches the petal of an origami rose I'm certain he didn't make.

"Flowers are for girls," I hear him sneer. "Why do you act like a girl? Are you queer?"

Cindy nearby has enough respect to talk back to Poophead.

"Give it a rest, Devin," she says.

"Fine," Devin spits. He crunches the origami rose in his fist, reducing the treasure to a mess, drops it on Ehan's desk, and says, "Later, princess."

The three begin to disperse, but before Poophead #2 can sit down in his desk, I get there first. My books hit the desk beside Ehan with a clunk, and Poophead Liam looks at me like I'm a skunk.

"That's my spot, dweeb," he hisses.

"Get a new one," I counter.

He steps up to me, illuminating the severe difference in height. He's a good six inches taller than me, and probably more might. But I stand my ground, and soon, he settles down as Poophead #3 tugs on Liam's arm.

"Come on," Poophead Jesse says.

"She took my spot!" Liam fights.

Jesse pulls again, and Liam gives in, walking off with him.

Once they're out of range, Ehan's voice sparkles beside me, uttering, "They."

I look over at him, sending a smile, which he receives, stamps, and send back. He picks up his wrinkled rose and examines its state, but it's too late. He places it on the left corner of his desk and opens up his notebook. Ehan hides his hands in the sleeves of his pastel green, knitted sweater, a curious clothing choice for this late spring weather. On his feet are pale pink runners with glittery laces that hook my focus.

"I like your shoes," I compliment.

"Thank you," Ehan responds. "I like your hair."

My hair is now lilac purple since Fatima and Hazel came by again last week. No one at school has acknowledged it yet, for none of them really see me. But Ehan does apparently.

"I liked it when you got it," he goes on, "but I never told you."

"Thanks. My cousin's friend did it."

"My parents would never let me dye my hair," Ehan says with a laugh.

"I didn't ask my parents."

He's amazed by that. "Really? Did you get in trouble?"

I shake my head.

"Man, I wish I had parents like that."

The teacher, Mrs. Marko, is always great at cutting conversations off just when they're getting good, and she does that today with a tap of her ruler on her desk of wood.

"Sit down," she announces. "It's learning time."

The class obeys, but as one girl walks by, she knocks Ehan's pencil case off his desk by mistake. Pencils splatter out when it hits the ground, and I bend over to help him clean it up. As I'm doing so, something gets my eyes stuck. It's a fabric name tag stuffed on the inside of the pencil case, and right beside _Name:_ it says _"Leila."_

I look up at my classmate curiously as they finish tucking the pencils back in the case. Then I return upright in my desk, giving one more glance their way at their clueless face.


	125. S3 E14.2: Wyatt's Snowstorm

**Hazel's POV**

"Okay, we get it," Fatema says from her desk in front of mine. "You're adorable. How many Snapspeaks of you doing a peace sign does Sarah need to see?"

To my left and right, Darius and Aimeé laugh, while I roll my eyes, not putting down my cell phone.

"We're making plans," I explain.

"Isn't she in class?" Darius says.

"Yes."

Sarah's not one to typically care about class. She doesn't go to Grant, so I never see her in school, but I imagine she sits at the back of the room watching Netflix during algebra, and rolls up to the building on her skateboard five minutes late everyday. The only thing she cares about as far as school goes is the ice hockey team, which she's on.

Another Snapspeak banner appears on my screen, and I open it to see a photo of Sarah with her hair messy, flipped over her head in a side part, some strands covering her eye as she smiles while sitting in her school desk. She's not allowed to wear hats in school, another thing she dislikes about it.

"There's the blushing again," Aimeé teases.

I ignore my friend to read the text over Sarah's image.

 **Sarah:** Spoon tonight? I'll drive.

I hold up a peace sign to photograph my response along with a typed smiley face.

"You got a date?" Darius asks. "You gonna get all prettied up?

"It's just The Spoon," I respond.

He raises his eyebrows, countering, "But you could see her in a suit."

Aimeé reacts saying, "I'm not even gay, and I wanna see that."

No kidding. I'd want to see that too, but I'm far too awkward to recommend dressing up for The Spoon. Maybe if this were a wedding, but it's not, so yeah.

"She wouldn't wear one anyway," I reply. "She's not a formal kind of person."

Darius shrugs and says, "Let's see."

Before I can react, he snatches my phone, and my fear spikes as he takes a photo of his desk.

"No, Darius, what are you—?"

I try to steal my phone back, but he blocks me with his arm, and a second later, he says, "She sent back."

 _Oh my gosh._ I manage to get my phone back, for Darius has stopped trying to keep it, and I open the response, scared for what her answer is, but my eyes grow enormous as I read the good news on the photo.

 **Sarah:** Formal? I have a tux I haven't worn in a while.

"Oh my gosh! Darius, I love you," I blurt.

"Send me a pic when you see her," Aimeé requests.

Fatima glances to Aimeé with a laugh, checking, "You're not gay?"

"I don't know," Aimeé discloses. "We should normalize not knowing."

I take another photo of myself and send a message back to Sarah.

 **Me:** See you tonight.

She replies with one last picture of her with her hand on her chin, smiling while looking off to the side.

________________________________________

**Cara's POV**

When the last bell of the day rings, everyone gathers their things, pushing their ways to their hooks where their backpacks hang, but I don't follow the crowd. I wait. My desk mate gets up from their place and turns away, and once they do, I glance around to check that no one is watching before I grab the little owl-shaped eraser from their desk cubby. I shove it in my pocket and finally stand up, the last the do so, but my teacher doesn't point it out. She's given up on deciphering my unpredictable actions.

The hallway is a strategy game, the aim to get out without getting in anyone's way. I'm shorter than most, so I've gotten good at ducking under elbows and squeezing between clueless dudes who stop in the centre of the walkway like they're the only ones who exist. Once I'm free from the building, I dash ahead of the snail-paced prissy girls, and I scan the tarmac, searching for my target. Boom: found it. The sky blue backpack dawdles down the open school field. My shoes tear the grass as I catch up. They must walk home, I guess, because they're not headed for a cheese-coloured school bus.

At the end of the field is a sidewalk that swirls down a neighbourhood of houses. They're almost there, but I'm only a little bit behind them now. I glance around, making sure nobody else will hear me before I call out.

"Leila!"

They spin around, their mouth dropping like a mailbox with a broken latch. Their eyes reflect the sunlight back as a shocked expression splatters their tan face.

I step up to my frozen classmate, hold out the owl eraser I stole, and say, "You dropped this."

Leila's eyes float down to my palm, then they take their tool back, rolling it through their fingers while they stare, eyes curtained by a bowl cut of curly, black hair. After a moment, they look up at me, and we stand in a mutual gaze until I eventually speak.

"It's a cool eraser. I have one like it."

With a smile, they close their hand and shove the eraser in their pocket.

"I got it at the book fair," they explain.

"Mine too," I say, joyfully. "I love the book fair."

"Me too. I love getting new books. I have a whole collection at home."

"I wish I could see that," I express.

They pause for a second before taking a chance, asking, "Would you like to? You could come over."

"Yes!" I answer in an instant. "Just let me tell my mom."

I give toss them another smile before running off to find my mom's car in the parking lot.

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

Auntie Amber gets the door, letting me and my dads into her house. Auntie Andi sits on a stool at the island, giving me a smile to say hello.

"So you want to learn art," Auntie Andi says.

"No," I deny.

"Yes, he does," Papa insists.

Auntie Amber raises her eyebrows and mutters, "This should be interesting."

"Come on into my studio," Auntie Andi instructs.

Papa gives me a nudge forward, and I sigh, following Auntie Andi down the hall into her studio. She trips over her foot on the way, probably because she's wearing fuzzy socks. I don't know how that affects it, but I think it probably would.

In the studio, the floor is stained with paint in several spots. Maybe she plays paintball in here. If she doesn't, maybe I could. There's enough sculptures to act as shields in a fun game.

She takes a seat on a stool in front of a blank canvas, and I stand beside her, swinging my hands back and forth.

"So what kind of things do you like to paint?" she wonders.

"Polarbears," I reply.

"Oh—"

"...in snowstorms."

She furrows her brows and cocks her head. "So you don't paint anything?"

"Yeah, but that's not why I'm failing art."

"Why are you failing?"

I stop on the sight of a pyramid of paint tubes on the table. There's got to be at least sixty different colours, all half-used.

"How much paint do you think I'd have to eat before I barf?" I ask.

"Okay, what else do you like to paint?" Auntie Andi asks, sounding worried for no reason.

I think of an answer, coming up with, "Uh, a windowless room...with no lights."

Auntie Andi drops her head and sighs.

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Austen sits in the wooden high chair at the end of the booth while Walker and I sit opposite Marty and Buffy. Declan, looking like a doll, lies in a baby carrier basket that sits between the two parents on the bench. He gazes up at the colourful glass lantern hanging above our table. Walker suggested this place, Luca's, because he likes the artwork on the walls. He also likes the crab cakes, but that's more of an afterthought.

The restaurant is noisy, filled with other kids and families all dining together. Servers whirl around tables to get across the room with their trays. Marty and I unfold our menus, letting our partners look too. While Walker browses through ours, I pick up another one and hold it up for Austen to see.

"What do you want to eat?" I ask her.

She digs her pointer finger into the picture of ribs on the page. "Yummy."

I set down the menu, saying, "Ribs it is."

"Maybe not," Walker says instead. "Check the toddler meal section."

"Those are lame," I mutter, but Walker gives me a firmer glance, and I cave.

"How's Declan doing?" Marty asks Buffy.

The little boy's lip quivers as his eyes dart around the room.

"Getting a little restless," Buffy observes."

Soon, the quivering turns into crying, and the baby's wail blares through the restaurant.

Marty asses the situation, asking, "Feeding time?"

Buffy reaches into the basket to pick up Declan as she responds, "Yup. Pass me my blanket."

After Marty retrieves a striped baby blanket from Buffy's bag, Buffy gets herself situated with her son under the blanket on her breast.

"I guess ribs make everyone hungry," I comment, which gets me a chuckle from Marty and an eye-roll from Buffy.

Walker and I continue looking through the menu, but as I glance up at Austen to make sure she's alright, I notice some people at a nearby table giving Buffy weird eyes. Ignoring them, Buffy carries on with her motherly task while Marty flips the menu pages for her.


	126. S3 E14.3: Wyatt's Snowstorm

**Hazel's POV**

The felt tip glides to a point, completing the wing of my eyeliner. After closing the cap on the pen, I lean close to the mirror, comparing both eyes to make sure they look even. Once I've deemed it good enough, I become aware of my cell phone ringing, and I go to answer the video call. Fatima's face pops up on the screen.

"How did you know I just finished my makeup?" I ask.

"Best friend intuition? Now step back and show me."

She grins eagerly while I prop my phone up on my dresser and back up to reveal the whole ensemble. Besides my makeup, I have a lacy, blue bow pinned in my hair, matching my blue skirt, which I've tucked an ivory blouse into.

"That outfit is gorgeous!" she fawns.

"Thanks. Jayda picked it out."

Background noise hums through on Fatima's end of the call as her younger brother pokes his head into her room.

"Dinner! Come on!" she shouts.

"Okay, okay," Fatima says, shooing him away. She looks at me again, saying, "I've got to go, but have a good date."

"Thanks," I respond.

Fatima hangs up, and I return to my mirror to check myself over one more time. I don't want there to be anything wrong when Sarah arrives, so I pay extra attention to every ball of lint and the direction of each wrinkle in my top. Once pleased, I check my phone again, thinking she must be here by now, but there are no messages. But it's time: six o'clock on the dot. She must just be running behind. She's always just barely on time anyway.

I let out a breath and sit down on the edge of my bed to wait.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

"You almost decided?" Walker asks Jonah.

"Uh, just five more minutes."

Walker and Marty both share a groan, but Jonah keeps on flipping between the burger section and the ribs section on the menu, and Austen keeps herself entertained with a stuffed bunny toy. Meanwhile, I'm still busy nursing Declan. This is me and Marty's first time out together for dinner since Declan was born, and unfortunately we didn't do a good job at predicting his feeding schedule. I don't mind, though, but based on the murmuring I'm overhearing from a random man at a table nearby, I think he does. Something must be wrong with his neck, since he can't seem to look away and mind his own business. I try to ignore it, but that becomes hard when a waiter approaches our table, and addresses me.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he says, "but some of the other guests have expressed discomfort with you doing that here."

"Feeding my baby?" I scoff.

He looks apologetic, and a bit clueless, but I'm still annoyed by the ignorance.

"We have a bathroom you could—"

I cut him off right there, repeating, "A bathroom? Would you like to eat in a bathroom?"

Before he can respond, another woman from the booth next to mine stands up and starts defending me.

"She's not bothering anyone," she states to the waiter.

I smile at her, feeling honoured to have a supporter, and honestly surprised by her boldness. But the man who's been giving me a stink eye decides to chime in.

"It's inappropriate!" he barks.

"What's inappropriate is that you sexualize a part of a woman that's made solely for feeding her children," the lady combats. "There's nothing inappropriate about what she's doing, and I'm sure the readers of my newspaper will agree with me."

Me, Marty and Walker all drop their jaws at that, while Jonah's off in his own world, dealing with the menu. The mention of media attention makes the man back down, although angrily, and the waiter spins to face me again, now red in the face.

"My apologies, ma'am," he says. "Continue with your business." He then looks to the other woman and says, "I hope there won't be a poor article written."

She crosses her arms and replies, "I bet you do."

Concern scrawled on his face, he hurries away, and the woman smirks.

"Thank you," I tell her.

"No thanks necessary," she responds.

"Do you have kids?"

"No, but I hear about these things far too often." She lets out a frustrated breath, shaking her head, before she relaxes her arms and says, "Sofia."

"Buffy," I say back with a smile.

Jonah finally breaks his eyes up from his menu to comment, "That right there is the power of women solidarity."

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Okay, this is getting dumb. I check my phone again, having finished a show on Netflix. 6:43. If I wasn't used to Jayda and Andreas both being hours late, I likely wouldn't have waited this long. _I should text her._ I open up my messages. _Screw that. She lives next door. I'm going to go figure out why she's taking so long._

I grab my purse and stuff my phone inside it before winding out my bedroom and down the hall. In the living room, I find my momma conversing with Uncle TJ and Uncle Cyrus. At the sight of me, Momma looks perplexed.

"I thought your date was at six," she says.

I don't want to admit that Sarah's this late in front of my uncles, so I just force a smile on my face and lie.

"Yeah, uh, I mixed up the time."

"Okay," my mom says. "Well, have fun."

"Thanks," I mutter and reach for the front door knob.

**Andi's POV**

Wyatt swipes the final streak of red onto his canvas.

"There!" he says proudly. "He's bleeding!"

I stare at the painting of a man dying on the floor until I just can't anymore. Wyatt's not passing this class unless his art teacher is a secret psychopath who enjoys this stuff. For me, it's just painful to think that we spent hours on this.

"I'm gonna go get us some water," I eventually say, exhausted.

The second I rise to my feet, I feel a tingle at my right hip, and when my feet land on the ground, I realize my legs feel numb. It's not an unusual sensation, for I've been feeling this on and off for a while now, but the fact that it comes in a sudden wave catches me off guard. Taking a step feels weird, but it works, so I keep going, thinking the feeling must come back as I walk. Except that it doesn't. My muscles shake, weaker than normal, so much that I have to hold on to the door frame to get through, and then the wall, and then the kitchen counter.

Amber, TJ, and Cyrus are all laughing and talking in the living room, and I don't want to interrupt that, so I carry on on my own. But this isn't right. Something's wrong. I can't deny it anymore. Before I can consider the options—telling Amber, going to the hospital, calling a doctor, or an ambulance—my knee buckles, and suddenly I can't hold myself up any longer. I collapse to the ground with a thud, launching Amber onto her feet as she runs over, shouting my name. I try to stand again, but there's nothing. I'm too weak. But my horrified heartbeat is pounding stronger than ever, amplifying this misfortune into a nightmare. _What's wrong with me?_

**Hazel's POV**

When I knock, Sarah doesn't answer her door. Her mom does. The lady's one gold tooth sparkles as she grins.

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Grimley," I greet, not expecting her to be the one I see, but I'm polite anyway.

"Hi, Hazel. Come on in," she says in her cheery voice.

I accept the invitation and let her close the door behind me, but I don't remove my shoes. I don't imagine I'll be staying for long. I just need to figure out what the hell is going on with Sarah so that we can go.

Sarah's house is the perfect juxtaposition to her own style. It has floral sofas and a pink rug, fake roses in vases and lace curtains. Topping it off, a thin veil of dog hair coats the place like sprinkles on a cake.

"Do you want a snack?" Mrs. Grimley offers.

She doesn't even wait for me to answer. She buzzes into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a platter of fruits, crackers, and cheese. She holds it out, and I put up my hand, attempting to politely turn it down.

"Oh, no, thank you. I'm good. Um, is Sarah here?"

"She isn't actually. She should be home later."

I'm taken aback, and my whole thought process has to remap. She isn't just late for our date. She stood me up.

"Oh," I utter. "Never mind. Thanks."

I let myself out of Mrs. Grimley's house and wander back down the porch steps, feeling a little off-balance. The sky burns red as the sun runs away, tearing its light off the sidewalk in layers. As I get to the street, I notice something I should've spotted before: Sarah's car is gone. She really stood me up.

I debate for a moment whether to give her the benefit of the doubt and call her. I don't know if she deserves it, but my hope wins out, and I bring my phone to my ear. It takes five rings before she picks up.

"Sup," she says.

"Hey..." I respond skeptically. "Where are you?"

"At Thompson's. We're playing _The Last of Us_. Wanna join?"

I hesitate, amazed by her complete obliviousness. "No..."

"Wait, shit," she suddenly breathes.

My jaw is tight as I respond, "Yeah."

"Hazel, I'm so sorry," she begins. "I completely forgot."

"I figured," I mumble.

I honestly don't know what to think. Am I supposed to forgive her? She didn't care enough about seeing me to do so much as remember. She left me to feel pathetic.

"Hazel, I—"

My phone beeping interrupts her thought, and I see my momma's name flash on the screen. Normally, I would just call her back, but I'm actually kind of glad for the opportunity to end my current conversation, because I seriously do not know how to deal with this right now.

"My mom's calling," I tell Sarah. "Have fun with your game."

"Hazel—"

I end the call, feeling a rain of relief. I'll figure out what to do about Sarah tomorrow. Right now, I just need to be mad.

"Hi," I say to my mom.

"Hazel, we won't be home when you get back from your date," Momma says, talking unusually fast.

I don't bother to explain that I'm not going out, because I'm more curious about what's happening.

"Where are you?"

She pauses before responding, "The hospital."

"What?" I burst. "Why? What happened?"

"Your mom's just having a little trouble balancing," she explains.

"Is she going to be okay?"

"Yes, yes."

Suddenly, the grumbling in the background raises in volume, raising my worry with it.

"Hazel, I have to go," Momma says a moment later, "but don't worry. Love you."

My response comes as a stutter. "I—uh—love you too."

The line disconnects, and for a while, I just stand there on the sidewalk, staring at my shadow as it becomes longer, stretching into a blur. My brain is working overtime, linking wires, forming all the possible worse-case-scenarios. What I really don't need is the extra call I get from Sarah. She probably wants to explain herself some more, but I don't have the energy the listen, so I hit 'decline' and start toward my car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have questions for you guys, cause I'm interested. (1) Which is your favorite episode so far of the entire series? (2) What characters would you like to see more of in season 4? (3) What plotlines were your favorite over the series? (4) Any predictions for season 4? (5) Favorite ships (romantic or platonic)?


	127. S3 E15.1: Love like a Disease

**Hazel's POV**

I guess this hospital hasn't heard of colour before, because the walls are white, the chairs are white, the roses on the window sill are white. A curtain separates my mom's half of the room from that of the other lady, and the curtain is—you guessed it—white. Mommy lies in the bed, her paint-splattered dress replaced by pale blue scrubs (at least that's not white), and Momma has her leg crossed over the other, a professional position, like this is a job interview and all the tests are related to employment rather than Mommy's health.

"You sure you don't want to sit?" Momma asks me.

"I can't sit," I reply, continuing to pace back and forth at the end of the bed. I'm starting to get dizzy, but the thought of stopping only makes my stomach curdle quicker. "Moving is the only thing keeping my anxiety from spiralling."

"Hey, I'll be okay," Mommy says—in a hospital bed.

"Your entire leg is completely paralyzed, and the other is halfway there!" I explode. "You're already not okay!"

Momma comes over and touches my arm, trying to calm me down by saying, "The doctors are figuring it out."

Her blue eyes bore into mine, injecting a blue sea into me, the type of sea where everything is so still at the surface that you could almost for a second forget the chaos surely going on below. I wonder, if I had her eyes, would I have that ability too? Or did she simply have to practice until she reached perfection? I take a few heavy breaths, controlled, but I lose track of my pace when the door opens, and Uncle TJ and Uncle Cyrus come on in.

"Hey, sorry we took so long," Uncle TJ says. "We were getting Wyatt's homework for him to do while here, but there was construction on the road by our house, and then on the highway, and on the road outside here. I swear they just constructed that road. I don't know why they're reconstructing it."

Uncle TJ goes over to hug Momma, and then he turns to Mommy, saying, "I would hug you, but I don't know it that would break you or not."

Uncle Cyrus then makes a beeline for Mommy in the bed. He throws his arms over her and squeezes her in a tight embrace that makes her smile and reciprocate the hug.

"Friendship is medicine," he says.

Mommy laughs, saying, "Hi, Cyrus."

"So," Uncle TJ starts, "what's going on?"

Uncle Cyrus releases my mom and sits down in one of the chairs next to her bed. Uncle TJ goes over to join him in the neighbouring seat.

"Well, her leg is numb," Momma begins explaining, "as well as some muscles in her pelvis, so she can't hold her pee."

"They didn't need to know that part," Mommy says.

"What's causing it?" Uncle TJ asks.

"That's what they're trying to figure out," Momma responds.

"They're checking basically everything," Mommy adds.

"Does anything hurt?" Uncle Cyrus wonders.

"No," Mommy answers. "Everything's numb, so no pain fortunately."

I shouldn't have stopped pacing, because I'm feeling my hands and jaw become sore from the tightness brought by being still, and my heart rate makes my sweat glands work double time.

"No pain only means your body's not functioning properly," I say, my voice higher than normal.

"Hazel," Momma says, stepping up to me again, "why don't you go for a walk around the hospital?"

"Pacing is walking," I retort.

She tilts her head, pressing her eyes farther in, and I let out a sharp sigh.

"I don't see what that will do except put innocent people at risk of being trampled," I argue, "but fine."

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

There's not enough space in Andi's room, so I'm stuck waiting on a couch in a waiting area at the end of the hospital hallway, one that's been completely overtaken by our family now. Jonah and Austen sit on the couch with me, Austen scribbling crayon in a colouring book, turning every page brown from the mix of pigment. Marty is holding Declan, who's fast asleep; it's past his bedtime. Somehow, the beeping in the background and constant chatter isn't impeding with his rest. Next to them, Cara is playing on some hand-held gaming device. At another end of the square of seats, Wyatt lies on a couch, staring blankly at a grade 7 math textbook.

"Man," I say to Marty who looks overwhelmed, "this was a turn of events, eh?"

Gunshot sounds blare from Cara's video game, and Marty looks over at them.

"Cara, what are you playing?" he questions.

"I forget the name, but there are zombies and I have to kill them."

"Well, I don't mind personally," Marty responds, "but we are in a hospital, and I'm pretty sure your mom would say it's a bit insensitive to have the shooting and screaming noises playing."

"It's not my fault death is loud," they retort, continuing to focus on their game. "Plus, this is a hospital. I'm sure more people have died here than in this game."

As if summoned by the debate, Buffy comes walking down the hallway from Andi's room, and her attention immediately goes to Cara.

"Cara, turn off that morbid game."

Cara angrily shuts the device and crosses their arms over their chest. "Now how am I supposed to not be bored?"

They stay curled in fury for a few seconds before Marty stands up and says, "Come on. We'll go on a walk."

Cara groans but agrees, forcing theirself onto their feet like just coming out of hibernation.

"I can take Declan for you," I offer.

Marty smiles and passes off his sleeping son to me, then he starts walking with Cara, placing his hand on their shoulder, which they shrug off immediately. With those two gone, Buffy sinks down onto the now-empty couch, her face wrinkled in stress.

"How's Andi?" Jonah asks.

"I don't know," Buffy replies. "I hate that I don't know."

"She'll be okay," Jonah says with a kind smile. "She's strong."

"Jonah," Buffy breathes, "how do you not get tired of being optimistic all the time?"

My husband shrugs and answers, "I think it's more tiring to be sad."

I end up staring at him, which I only realize when he meets my eyes with his shimmering ones and gives me a smile. I do love him, and this is one of the reasons why.

A moment later, Bex and Bowie show up in a panic. They look like they must've raced here.

"Is she here?" Bex asks, her voice glowing fear.

Buffy nods and stands up to show them to Andi's room.

**Jayda's POV**

I lowkey forgot that air didn't smell like cigarette smoke until now as I get out of Cayenne's car in the hospital parking lot.

"Hope everything's alright with your aunt," she says.

"Me too," I respond.

A gust of wind streams over me, making me shiver, and I tuck my hands into my elbows. I'm seriously regretting not bringing a coat to go over my gold slip dress, but I didn't want to be carrying it around at the party, and I certainly didn't expect to have to come to a hospital in the middle of it.

"Thanks for giving me a ride," I say.

Cayenne gives me a black lipstick smile, replying, "Hey, I'm here to serve."

"Unlike my boyfriend," I mutter, still not done being annoyed .

"That's why I don't date cis straight males. I'm also gay, but still," Cayenne comments with a chuckle.

"Maybe I should consider that too," I mumble. I start closing the car door, saying, "See you."

Cayenne backs out of the parking spot to drive away as I head toward the hospital entrance. I'm halfway there when I hear a honk from behind. _I swear to God, if it's Andreas..._ It's him.

I stomp over to the car, my anger heating with every inch closer I get. Brayden exits out the passenger door, but when Andreas steps out and comes over to me with a smile on his face, I lose it.

"Sup," he says.

"Sup?" I practically yell. "That's all you're gonna say? Not explain why you didn't pick up any of my twenty calls?"

Brayden steps back uncomfortably, saying, "I believe this is my cue to go inside."

While he goes toward the hospital, I don't break my glare away from Andreas. He freezes for a moment, looking at me in surprise, utterly stupid surprise.

"I wasn't checking my phone," he defends.

"I called you! You just had to pick up! Is it on silent?" I question, not at all satisfied with his answer.

"Yeah," he answers. "I was hanging out with the boys, and I didn't want my phone to interrupt the movie."

I shake my head, overflowing with annoyance. "I was almost stranded at a party. Thank God for Cayenne who offered to drive me when you didn't pick up."

"Jay—"

"You know what?" I interrupt, taking a step away from him. "Whatever."

I spin around and stride toward the hospital entrance, leaving Andreas alone by his car. I don't have the patience for him right now.


	128. S3 E15.2: Love Like a Disease

**Marty's POV**

It's hard to tell what Cara is thinking as they stroll beside me down the hospital corridor. Nurses and doctors zip by us on occasion, while family members of those in the hospital pass through slowly, like there's no rush, like being here isn't news anymore. Cara's expression is emotionless. There's more feeling coming from the sad-face image on their shirt than from them.

"So how was your time at your friend's house?" I ask.

"Good," they respond. "I promised her she could come to our house to go on our trampoline."

"Oh, right. We have that," I remember. "You guys never use it."

"That's because school takes up so much time," Cara complains. "It should be illegal for them to give us so much homework."

"You're in third grade," I reply.

"And I'm working my ass off!" they exclaim.

I pause for a moment before saying, "We shouldn't let Andreas swear in front of you."

"Too late. I already know them all."

As we turn a corner, a huge glass window grabs my attention, and I look over to see dozens of babies all sleeping in individual bubbles with monitors flickering light lines. Some of the infants are about as big as my shoe.

"Hey, look at all the babies," I say.

Cara stops beside me and tucks their hands into the pockets of their pink skate jeans.

"Babies are weird," they say.

"Your brother's a baby."

"And all he does is puke and poop. Seems like a lot to put up with for just a cute face."

Cara turns away and continues walking down the hallway without me.

"Fair enough," I say then catch up beside my kid.

**Andreas's POV**

I don't now where Jayda is, but she's not here with the rest of the family. Thank God, too, because I don't know why she's acting so crazy. Brayden's sitting with Wyatt on a couch, and it happens to be the only one not full, so I slump down beside my brother, dropping my face into my hands.

"Dude," I groan. "Girls... I don't get them."

"What did you do this time?" Brayden questions.

"Nothing. I was watching a show with my friends, missed a few of her calls, and now she's pissed at me."

"Hmm. This is why I'm glad I'm gay."

"Did Deion never freak out on you like this?" I ask.

"Deion threatened to punch me before we became friends," Brayden recalls, "but that was due to internalized homophobia. I assume Jayda doesn't have that."

I let out a laugh at the suggestion. "Nope. She points out hot girls to me when we're out."

"Straight male/women-loving-women solidarity is a sacred thing."

I let out a sigh. "I don't know. I guess I should've called her back when I saw the missed calls."

His eyes go tired and voice goes flat as he repeats, "You saw the missed calls?"

"Yeah, but I didn't think Auntie Andi was in the hospital," I justify. "I thought she was just wanting to talk."

"And you didn't want to talk?" my brother pries.

"No, I wanted to," I admit, "bit I was with my friends, so I wanted to give them my attention. Look, if I could spend all my time listening to Jayda's voice, I would. I love talking to her, whether it's about what lipstick colour she wants to buy, or about some dream she had at two in the morning when she's tired and goes off on tangents. Shit, I love it," I confess. "I really love it. Like, she makes me feel so sure that the universe got it right." I bring my eyes over to Brayden's. "I don't know. What do you think?"

My brother just shrugs and replies, "No Shakespeare, but it's still romantic."

"No, I mean what do you think I should do?"

"Oh, I don't know," he answers, shaking his head. "My last relationship ended with him getting on a plane to Philadelphia."

That's when Wyatt scoots closer on the couch and leans toward us, saying, "Nobody ever wants my advice, huh?"

"You got advice? Let's hear it," I respond, figuring any help would be good right now.

"Break up with her and go toilet paper a house with your friends like you said you would," Wyatt says, getting more upset as he talks.

"I'm not breaking up with her, and what?"

Brayden shakes his head and explains, "Jake's with his girlfriend again, and Wyatt's mad about it, so he's projecting his feelings onto everyone else."

"I'm not mad," Wyatt denies. "I'm just disappointed."

"For you, that difference is negligent," Brayden responds. "Both result in poor advice for Andreas."

I let my head fall back into my hands, wishing anyone here was good at girl advice. Hazel would be more help, but I don't know where she is.

**Jayda's POV**

I don't want to run into Andreas again, since that would defeat the purpose of me storming off, but now I'm left wandering around the hospital like some kind of friendless loser. So when I spot Hazel in the cafeteria line up, I'm relieved.

"Ugh, I wish hospitals sold alcohol," I mutter.

Hazel looks over at me. "You're seventeen."

"In Canada, I could drink at eighteen."

"You'd still be too young."

I roll my eyes and groan, "Ugh. Good thing I'm already tipsy."

I go over to the nearest open table and drop down into a chair. Hazel sits much more gracefully at the other end.

"What's up with you?" she questions.

"Oh, just my thoughtless boyfriend. The usual."

"Looks like our partners have something in common," she responds, which makes me curious.

"What'd Sarah do?"

"We had a date planned for tonight, and I waited. I waited, and when I finally gave up, I called her only to find out that she was at her friend's house playing video games."

"Ew. Stood up. What was her excuse?"

"She said she forgot. I don't understand how she could forget about our date unless she didn't care at all. I got ready for her. I looked frickin hot, and it's wasted."

I scan Hazel's makeup and outfit—eyeliner plus the ensemble I picked out. I knew it'd look good. Definitely not my style, but definitely hers. Then I notice another pair of eyes nearby.

"That thirteen-year-old F-boy seems to be liking it," I point out.

Hazel glances back at the boy, who gives Hazel a wry grin, to which she returns a look of disgust and turns to me again, muttering, "Oh, God."

I snicker a bit to myself as my cousin digs her head into her arms on the table.

"Look, maybe she just genuinely forgot," I propose.

Hazel lifts her chin onto her forearms so she can look at me. "She shouldn't forget her girlfriend."

"I know, but I think you might be making a bigger deal out of this than it is."

She sits up and leans back in her chair curiously. "How so?"

"She made a mistake."

"She didn't care to remember our date."

"So what?" I challenge. "Do you know how many times Andreas has forgotten the times of our dates until I remind him? It's not because he doesn't care. It's because he's an idiot." I stop for a second, dwelling on that. "He's an idiot," I repeat, this time quieter. "That's just what he is."

"This is becoming about you, isn't it?" Hazel says.

"I'm an idiot too."

So Andreas isn't perfect. But he's kind, and he cares, and I'm not perfect either. Honestly, I'm surprised he's put up with me for as long as he has. We're both just two idiots, and doesn't that kind of make us perfect together?

I get up and scurry through the hospital as quick as I can in these heels. My pulse is racing by the time I get to where my family is sitting around a coffee table. But Andreas isn't here.

"Where's Andreas?" I ask Brayden.

"He went to get something from his car."

 _Oh, awesome, I have to backtrack._ I nod and hurry back the direction I came from. When I get to the elevator this time, I'm too impatient to wait, so I take the stairs. Eventually, I make it out to the parking lot where I see Andreas walking back from his car. He looks surprised when he sees me, but I keep going toward him, not letting that throw me off. I stop about a metre in front of him, my emotional exhaustion turning into physical tears.

"I'm sorry!" I cry.

"What?"

"I was being irrational and making a big deal out of nothing, and to be honest, I'm kinda drunk, and—"

"I love you."

That shuts me up in an instant. Suddenly, it's just him and me, lit by the lights leaking out the hospital windows. My pulse hits harder behind my ribs as my mind dissects that sentence. I love him, and I think I knew he loved me. I think there was just that mutual understanding, but neither of us have ever said it out loud. Until now.

Without a response from me, Andreas starts to pull back, saying, "If that was too much, just pretend I didn't say it."

"No," I cut in, shaking my head as I take a step forward. "It wasn't. I love you too."

He releases a nervous chuckle and responds, "Thank God."

I smile, laughing a little too, before saying, "But um, you're not drunk too, right?"

"No," Andreas answers, sounding so sure it almost makes me stop breathing. "I'm sober as ever."

**Marty's POV**

The hospital is getting quieter as it gets later. Cara's still just as quiet. Nothing's changed.

"What did you learn in school today?" I ask.

"I don't know," they answer without even thinking first.

"Great," I breathe.

Cara's eyes suddenly light as a nurse walks by like he's on a mission. Cara immediately sets their target and follows him around the corner where he meets up with a doctor, discussing a plan for a surgery. I don't catch it all, and they both leave through a door before I can. Cara doesn't follow them in, recognizing the boundaries. Instead, they stop at the doorway, staring. After a minute, they step away and continue walking through the hospital.

"It's weird that people are birthed and die in the same place," Cara mutters.

"Well, the whole goal is to make sure that people don't die," I reply.

"Yeah, but it still happens."

"Yeah, but they do their best to make it not happen."

We approach another sitting area in the hospital, but this one only holds two people: a woman and a young boy. A doctor approaches the woman, and she stands up, placing her hands over her heart, hoping to hear something good. At first, I think she doesn't hear it from the doctor, because she starts crying, but then I see that she's smiling, and she sits down again, pulling the boy into a hug.

Out of the silence, Cara speaks, "I wanna be a doctor when I grow up."

"You'd kill at that," I tell them. "Well, not kill, but— You get what I mean."

Cara smiles up at me and keeps on walking ahead.


	129. S3 E15.3: Love Like a Disease

**Andreas's POV**

My arm is around Jayda as we lie on the grass outside the hospital. My car is visible in the parking lot, but I'm looking up. I'm looking up, but I'm feeling her head on my chest, and her hair pouring over my arm. She finds my hand and takes control, lacing it into hers, and I don't mind at all. She's wearing my jacket now too, and I'm cold, but I don't care. I'd rather stay here alone with her than go inside.

"Can I ask you a question?" Jayda suddenly says.

"Shoot," I reply

"When did you know...that you...?"

She trails off, while I fall into my thoughts. Pin-pointing just one moment feels impossible, but there is one that I always come back to.

"We were fourteen," I begin, "and you were crying over that Jeremy dickhead—"

"Gross," she interrupts, which makes me smile. "I was a mess that day."

"You were beautiful," I counter.

She adjusts her grip on my hand, making it tighter, fit better.

"It was the girls' washroom," she reminisces, continuing the story for me.

"But you were there," I say. "I think that's when I fell in love with you."

I tilt my chin down to study my girlfriend, but when I do, I see tears glistening in her eyes. I react instantly, sitting up to wipe her tears away with my thumb.

"Shit, don't cry."

She laughs and shakes her head as she wipes her eyes with her hand, saying, "No, it's fine. I didn't expect your answer to be so long ago. God, I was so oblivious." She lets out a breath, then a second later, says, "Remember when you wanted to do our school project on swimsuit models?"

She spills into a chuckle, and I sigh.

"Okay, make fun of me."

Grinning, I watch her until she's done laughing.

"Um, the grade nine dance," she suddenly says, "when my date left, and you left yours to come sit with me. That's when I knew."

"Well, I wasn't missing much with poodle girl," I joke.

"Trisha Taylor." She groans then says, "I hear she's Swiss royalty now. She dropped out of school and married a prince or something."

"Remind me to never go to Switzerland," I reply.

Jayda laughs at that then carries on. "But I remember complaining to you about how I couldn't find a good guy. Wow, I was really stupid, huh?"

"Well, I did go to summer camp and get a girlfriend to supress my feelings for you, so I think we're both stupid."

She smiles, and our eyes connect, the way the sun illuminates the moon, like we're two intertwined pieces of a galaxy. And I bet we are.

"So," she says, breaking the silence, "when are you gonna kiss me?"

Gently, I place my hand on her jaw, and her eyes flutter closed as I press my lips to hers.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Going for a walk hardly helped me feel any better. Being back in my mom's hospital room brings back my anxiety over her, plus all these Sarah thoughts now... And all my moms are doing is watching the home and gardening network on the tiny television with Uncle TJ and Uncle Cyrus, all of them having apparently forgotten that Mommy is in a hospital bed.

"Is it just me," Momma says, "or is there something inherently sapphic about home rennovation shows?"

"No, they're definitely made for women who love women," Mommy replies.

"I don't get it," Uncle TJ chimes in.

"I prefer Queer Eye," Uncle Cyrus adds.

Unable to stand this for any longer, I leave to go find the rest of the family in the sitting area. I sit down next to Brayden then realize everyone is here, even my grandparents, except for Andreas and Jayda.

When I ask Brayden where they are, he just shrugs and says, "I know no more than you."

Suddenly, I feel my purse vibrate, and I check inside it to see my phone buzzing. It's a phone call. From Sarah.

Do I really want to deal with this right now? I really don't need this. And honestly, what could she possibly say that wouldn't do anything but add more stress to my life? There's only so much a person can handle, and I'm fairly certain I've reached that limit.

I'm about to ignore it when Wyatt leans forward on the couch and asks, very loudly, "Are you going to answer that?"

Annoyed, I stand up and walk away from my family as I look at my buzzing phone again. I guess I'll answer it.

I raise the phone to my ear and ask coldly, "What?"

"I'm sorry," Sarah says. "Look, you can be mad at me for forgetting, because I deserve it. I'm just a big dumb with the memory of an avocado. But I want you to know that I really do care about you, and it wasn't on purpose. You're some kind of Disney princess, and I'm so lucky that you even gave me a chance. I'm sorry I blew it, but I want you to forgive me."

I finally get the chance to think once she's done rambling, and now that I have, I feel bad.

"Sarah—"

"Just come to the courtyard," she interrupts.

"Sarah—"

"Courtyard!"

She hangs up. _She wants me to go to the courtyard. Am I seriously going out there to listen to her apologize again?_ I sigh. _Great, now I have to go past my family again to get to the courtyard._

The doors are stained glass, one of the oldest parts of the building, or at least that's what Sarah once told me. She's taught me a lot about this hospital—random facts nobody needs to know, but she knows them—like the fact that the vending machine is always out of orange soda by 8:00 pm, or the east doors have to be pulled all the way shut or else they don't close, or that the courtyard is the most romantic place in the...

Flowers line the pathway up to where Sarah stands holding a boom box above her head, blasting the song "[Watch You Sleep](https://youtu.be/yolXfr4KSyQ)" by girl in red way too loud. In one of her hands, she's holding a bundle of daffodils. And the best part is she's in her tux—a black one with a matching black shirt underneath, four buttons undone. And oh my God, Darius and Aimée were right. I did want to see this.

She lowers the boombox down as she calls out, "Do you listen to girl in red?"

I drop all the anger I have left there at the door and walk up to her, melting under the cuteness of this gesture. Sarah sets the boombox on the stone pathway before I reach her and take a single flower from the bouquet in her hand. I gaze at the yellow blossom, an uncontainable smile growing.

"This is really extra," I say with a grin.

"Is it enough?" Sarah asks.

I look at the flower again then back at her. "More than enough."

I throw my arms over her shoulders and pull her into a kiss, resulting in her dropping the rest of the daffodils to hold me instead. The song keeps playing, spreading out into the night, turning our moment into a scene from a musical. Logically, this should be just a musical. I shouldn't get perfection like this. But it's real. It's us.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

I knew this would be bad. I guess I just didn't expect it to take so long. Amber's been incredible, as she always is. It's been days, but she's still here with me, although she had to go to work a few times. It's almost past visitor hours, but Amber refuses to leave until they kick her out. I assume that's what's happening when my doctor comes in.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

"Alright," I respond. "Starting to feel my leg again."

"That's great news," my doctor says. "I also have some other news."

Amber sits up in her seat and asks, "Great or bad?"

My doctor hesitates, letting me know the answer before she starts explaining it, but even when it's spoken, I don't think I could've prepared myself for it.

"You have multiple sclerosis," she states.

I feel my stomach drop as I attempt to process that, but the doctor keeps going.

"But the good part is that, with medication and some changes to your diet, it's completely manageable."

Seeing that I'm becoming scared, Amber clasps her hand over mine, and I try to let it calm me, but I'm still terrified.

"MS?" I ask. "Like the disease that puts people in wheelchairs?"

"Some people, yes, but in your case, with the right care, we can keep you on your feet."

I try to maintain steady breathing, but Amber's hand is the only thing preventing a complete freak-out. She squeezes mine tighter, dissolving some of my fear.

Then she looks at my doctor and asks, "Can we have a minute?"

"Of course."

The door closes behind the doctor, sealing me and Amber alone. There isn't even another patient on the other side of the curtain anymore. He got to go home. I'm still stuck here. Amber reaches up and wipes a tear from my cheek, giving me a delicate smile.

"Hey, you're gonna get through this," she tells me.

I want to believe her, but she doesn't know how this will turn out any more than I do.

I let out a shaky breath. "I never once imagined I'd..."

"Me neither," Amber admits. "But, you know, many people live completely normal lives with it. You're going to be one of them."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Because you didn't sign up for this, for everything with me to become so difficult, for you to have to skip work to help me in a hospital, and then if this does get worse..."

Amber wraps her other hand over mine to close it on both sides.

"Andi," she says, "do you remember the day I asked you out?"

The memory comes back as a warmth spreading through me, making it easier to breathe.

"I was going to the washroom with a nosebleed," I remember, "and you found me and helped me clean up. That was so embarrassing, having blood running down my face in front if you."

"I thought you looked cute as always."

"I remember freaking out inside when you told me that."

"Because you knew I liked girls."

"But not that you liked me."

"And then I asked you out, and you asked if you could bring your friends."

I turn red instantaneously, and Amber chuckles.

"I definitely didn't think you were trying to ask me out on a date," I say.

"Because everything between us up till then was totally platonic," Amber says, a hint of sarcasm in that. "After that, right as you were leaving the bathroom, do you remember what I said?"

I nod. I remember.

"I said I was sorry for getting my blood on your sleeve," I utter. "And you said it's alright, and that you'd be there whenever I needed you always."

Amber smiles, tilting her head as she replies, "Did I ever exclude MS in that?"

"No," I accept.

Amber brings my hand up to her lips and gives it a kiss, which makes me smile, but my smile fades almost as soon as it comes.

"I feel like my life has just flipped upside down," I confess. "Like...starting a new, way harder level of a game."

"Well, then you beat the first level," Amber tells me, rolling with the simile. "And I'm going to help you beat this one. For better or for worse."

She leans in to kiss me on the cheek, and it's soft. When she backs away, I don't break my eyes from hers, hoping she'll come back, and she does, kissing my lips too. _For better or for worse._ I guess we couldn't not make use of the second part of that vow. Everything has changed, but at least one thing hasn't; she's still with me.

"I love you so much," I whisper.

She smiles and responds, "I love you so much more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the season finale! I hope you found it interesting. I wanted to do something different with the plots and touch another real-life situation with that. This one was inspired by, like, several people. Mostly my friend, but also like half my family, since MS seems to run in it. Now that the season is done, lmk your predictions for next season. I'm v excited for what it coming. Thank you! Season 4 comes on October 26.


	130. S4 E1.1: High School

**Brayden's POV**

Grant High School: certainly less prestige than Pearson, but I suppose the plot will be more entertaining. I'm already shorter than most my age, but last year I was among the eldest in my school, so I still stood above the others. Here, I'm a daisy in a forest of trees. I wonder if my entire experience will solely be covered by the shadows of those larger than me. I do hope regular days are less crowded than today, because otherwise I fear that prediction will be true. I enter the foyer of the high school where those who know what they're doing dawdle to their homerooms, while the other freshmen gaze around, lost.

From behind me, I hear footsteps charging, and soon Linny pops up beside me with a grin.

"Hey!" she squeaks.

"Hello," I respond.

A second later, Kelsey appears on my other side, exclaiming, "So high school. How we feeling? Excited? Already dreading it?"

"I haven't assigned emotions to my day yet," I reply. "I haven't found time to do that while creating a day planner of every assignment for the entire year."

I hold up the coiled book and flip through the pages, while Linny leans over to look curiously.

"How did you find out all the assignments this far in advance?" she questions.

"If you're persistent enough with your emails, you eventually get answers."

"Hmm. Remind me to come to you before every test," she says.

The flow of traffic around us begins to swirl as people stop conversing and head for class.

"Time for our first homeroom of the year," Kelsey announces. "I hope she's nice."

Linny furrows her brows at that. "I thought our TA was a man."

"Evelyn Hanna?" Kelsey responds.

Linny's eyes spring wide as a realization hits her, and my stomach sinks as I come to the same conclusion.

"Mine is Tanner Nolan," Linny says.

"I have Micheline Portillo," I state.

"We're not in the same homeroom?" Kelsey says in shock.

All three of us stand in silence for a moment, our yearly plans already derailed. I feel foolish. I presumed we would be in the same homeroom, since it's been that way for years. This is the one event I didn't plan for.

"Well, that's alright," I say, trying to think positively. "You all have English first, right?"

Linny shakes her head. "I have art."

"Math," says Kelsey.

My friends' spooked faces remain speechless. It's becoming transparent that this truly isn't middle school anymore.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

The prescription and vitamin bottles create a sort of orange-tinted, muted rainbow in the kitchen cabinet. It's been three months since I was diagnosed with M.S., and since then I've been seeing my doctor much more frequently than in the past. Although I know this is real, it sort of feels like when Hazel was little and she would play doctor with me as her patient. It feels like a routine we play for entertainment, not a routine to keep me walking.

"Hey," my wife says as she comes into the kitchen.

She smiles as she leans against the counter next to me, her hair flowing over her shoulders like honey. It drips down on her lime green top, one with little flowers embroidered on the front.

"Hey," I say.

"First day with the meds, huh?" Amber says.

"Yeah. I guess we'll see how it goes."

She must be able to see my worry, because she reaches for my hand and turns me to face her, and I follow her lead like a feather in the wind.

"You know, I think it will be wonderful," she says, "because with them, you'll always be able to do this."

She moves in slowly, reading my mood before fully committing. I have no objections, so she kisses me soft, sweeping my lungs up in her air too. I float with her for a while until the doorbell makes the breeze drop me down again, and Amber goes over to answer it.

The door opens, revealing Buffy with Declan on her hip. He's gotten much bigger over the summer, for he's almost sixth months old now. Now whenever he comes here, he's always mesmerized by the sculptures that decorate the space, and his eyes buzz from one to another constantly.

"Hey," Buffy greets. "Sorry. Marty's at work, so I hope you don't mind Declan joining us."

"Of course not," Amber replies.

Amber goes up to our nephew with a smile and starts talking to him in her high-pitched voice that happens when she's around children.

"Hi, Declan!"

The little boy sucks his lips inward, making a long smile as he hums, "Mmmm."

Amber smiles at the cuteness of that, and Buffy laughs.

"Ready for some organic grocery shopping?" Buffy then asks.

"I'll grab my sweater," I reply.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

After homeroom, everyone flocks to their lockers to unload their items before first period. Once I've got mine organized with my books inside, keeping my backpack of supplies for first period, Darius's curly hair comes up on my right, and I shut my locker door, unveiling all of him in his purple, pleated skirt and white graphic T-shirt that covers all but a thin strip of the skirt. With the black bracelets on his wrist, he's looking better than me. I just chose a random dress and threw it on. In my defence, I did wake up late.

"Hazel, how likely do you think it is that I'll get dress-coded?"

"Stay away from the woodshop teacher, and you'll be fine," I reply.

Aimée shows up next, falling back against the lockers beside me, but her eyes remain on something in the crowd. I trace her googly gaze to a masc girl passing by with earbuds in. Aimée watches her the whole way until she's out of sight, at which point my friend shakes out of the stare and hugs her books tight against her chest as she turns toward me and Darius. 

"I see you got gayer over the summer," I note.

"Yeah, that's still to be determined," Aimée responds.

Suddenly, my cousin breaks out from the crowd in the hall and rushes up to me, her heels clunking on the floor.

"Hazel, do you have notes for math?" Jayda asks as she brushes her long hair out of her face. Then her focus falls away onto Darius's outfit as she says, "Nice skirt."

"Thanks," Darius replies. "You too."

"Jayda, I don't have notes," I tell her. "It's the first day, and I'm a grade below you."

"Right, damn it," she huffs. "Ugh. I need nerd friends."

She carries on down the hall in a strut, the way she always walks, like the hallway is a runway. I notice Andreas darting between the bodies in the stream a bit behind her, tossing his arm around Jayda's shoulders when he gets up to her. Jayda glances his way with a smile then they walk around the corner together.

Finally, Fatema shows up, saying, "Hi. I see your cousin's figuring out the high school."

At first, I'm confused, since my cousins are seniors. Then she nods behind her, and I remember that I now have another cousin in high school with me. Brayden wanders between classroom doors, glancing down at a coiled notebook frequently, looking completely lost. I watch him check a few doors before it becomes too painful, and I go over to help him out.

I wind around the cliques in the hall and stop behind him, where he doesn't even notice me until I speak.

"Which room are you looking for?"

He looks up in surprise, saying, "Oh, hello. Um, 134."

"Well, to start, that's on the first floor, and this is the third."

Brayden frowns and says, "Directions are not my forte."

With a wave, I say, "Come on."

"Thank you," he replies and follows me.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

The fire station is bright with windows letting daylight illuminate the big red trucks. As I walk in, I hear chatter, letting me know that not everyone is out on calls at the moment. I walk toward the end of the trucks where a set of stairs leads upward toward a balcony kitchen area.

"TJ?" I call out.

My husband peeks over the railing above and sees me. "Cy?"

He heads for a fire pole which he zips down, landing on the concrete with me.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

I hold up the black lunch bag in my hands and answer, "You forgot your lunch."

TJ's face shifts into a soft smile as he takes it. A second later, a women bends over the balcony and shouts out.

"TJ, is this your man?"

Aneeka is new to the department, so she hasn't met me yet, and I've only heard of her. She looks strong, her flexed arms on display thanks to her short-sleeved uniform top, and her dark hair is trimmed short. She looks at TJ and me with an eyebrow up, and I respond with a ditsy smile.

"Hi," I say. "Yes, I am his man."

"Well, why are you down there?" she questions. "Come on up! Eric brought croissants from his wife's bakery!"

TJ looks at me, silently asking if I want to follow him, and I do, going up the stairs to where five other people are hanging out, some filling out paperwork, others snacking on the croissants. Right away, Eric comes over to me.

"Cyrus, nice to see you again," he says.

He holds out a plate of the baked goods for me while TJ goes over to the massive refrigerator to put his lunch in with his coworkers'. As I take a bite of the croissant, Eric returns the tray to a table, and I start to overhear the conversation happening between two men nearby, Luca and Gabriel.

"She won't listen to me," Gabriel complains. "I remind her every day to do her chores, but she just ignores me. Sometimes she gets the laundry sorted, but the second I ask if she's doing it, she stops. I never thought teenagers would be this difficult."

I step up into the discussion after that, turning both Gabriel and Luca's heads toward me.

"Hello, excuse me," I say. "I don't mean to eavesdrop, but you were kind of, um, open. Um, perhaps your daughter might feel like your reminders are more of just nagging."

Gabriel's chin goes up as he considers that. "I never thought of that. Hey, do you know anything else about dealing with teenagers?"

"Well, I do have two teenagers, a degree in social work, and a job as a high school counsellor."

"Great," he responds. "Do you have time?"

Normally, I wouldn't be able to stay, but the person who made my work schedule accidentally gave me the day off, so I don't have anywhere to be.

"Sure."


	131. S4 E1.2: High School

**Andi's POV**

I feel a few different emotions as I past the grocery store isles. One: stress, because I don't know where I'm supposed to start with my new diet. Two: jealousy, because the ice cream isle taunts me with colourful boxes of frozen treats. Three: security with Buffy and Amber on either side of me. Declan, of course, admires the sights of the grocery store. I imagine the billions of images must be stimulating the wonder in his little brain incredibly. Once we choose the correct isle, we stop and examine the shelves.

"So you can never eat Skittles again?" Buffy asks.

"I can on occasion," I respond, "but not as much as I did before."

"The doctor recommends a full gluten-free, vegetarian, and unprocessed diet," Amber explains to Buffy.

"We're already vegetarian, so that won't be hard," I say, "but why are non-processed things so expensive?"

"Well, this is the organic isle," Buffy says. "That's not the same thing as unprocessed, I don't think."

"I have no idea," I respond. "This is all new for me."

"Why don't we start by looking at cookbooks, and we can see what we need from that," Amber suggests.

She takes my hand and leads me into the cookbook section, where Buffy follows us to as well. I start walking down one isle, browsing through the titles.

"Why does keto diet have a whole isle?" I question.

"It's trending, I guess," Buffy replies.

Amber curls into the neighbouring isle, saying, "Here are some for all-natural and vegetarian cooking."

Buffy and I join her there, and Amber starts picking up a few different books. I guess I should do the same, but my mind makes me wait one more minute, which Amber notices, giving me a look of concern.

"You okay?" she asks me.

"Yeah," I reply. "I'm just... I guess it's suddenly hitting me that that happened. I have MS."

Buffy and Amber both hold their eyes on me, which makes me feel like I'm the sad part of a novel everyone wants to just skip over but can't, but then Buffy speaks.

"Andi, I know you're going to be alright," Buffy assures me. "And we'll be with you all the way through this."

After the moment it takes to accept and believe that, I say, "Thanks."

Buffy smiles and says, "Just another service we provide."

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Austen has her dolls scattered on the rug in between the coffee table and the television when I enter the living room, and Jonah's on the couch, watching her as she pretends one of them is flying above her head.

"Alright," I say, "who's ready to go to the d—"

Jonah shoots up onto his feet, hushing me. "Shhhhh!"

He hurries over to me, and Austen swings her head our way curiously.

"Wha Lolly?" she wonders.

Jonah comes up with an answer for me, saying, "Lolly was gonna say, uh...dermatologist."

Austen blinks, blank-faced, then smiles, saying, "Okay," and returns to playing with her dolls.

"What's going on?" I question.

I'm just confused, but Jonah walks me into the dining room where he puts his hands on my shoulders and starts explaining the situation to me.

"Austen's scared of the doctor," Jonah says.

"Since when?"

"I don't know, but I mentioned it this morning, and she started crying."

"So you thought dermatologist was better?"

"We can't say doctor or she'll freak out," she reasons.

"Well, she needs to get a check up," I state.

"We'll have to convince her it's something else."

"Like what?"

He considers it for a moment before spinning around and marching into the living room.

"Austen, it's time to see your fairy godmother," he announces.

Our daughter sparks in excitement and practically leaps up to her feet. Jonah gives me a glance back, and although his solution is random, I have to smile at his creativity.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

Aneeka and I sit at a table together in the station's balcony kitchen, eating our lunches while we watch my husband act as a therapist for Dale, our coworker. When we left for a 9-1-1 call, Cyrus was helping out Gabriel, and now he's gone through four others. While Dale talks about stuff I can't hear, Cyrus takes notes in a flip notebook he apparently had on himself.

"Does he always do this?" Aneeka wonders.

"This is how he got his current job," I respond with a laugh.

"He seems really empathetic. He listened to Gabriel for half an hour. Man, I couldn't do that."

She laughs, and I smile, returning my eyes to my husband, tracing the wave of dark hair that spills over his eye as he looks down at his writing.

"He is empathetic," I say. "When we were in middle school, he started talking with me about my own problems on the swings. He's been doing this forever."

"So you married your therapist," she concludes. "That's a way to save money. I should've done that."

"What does your partner do?" I ask.

"Tattoo artist," Aneeka answers with a grin. "So almost a therapist."

Cutting off our laughter before it can begin, the fire bell rings, signalling that there's a call to get to. We both stand up and head toward the fire poles. On my way, I glance over at Cyrus who's just finishing up with Dale. Dale's sobbing now, but Cyrus gets up, trying to politely motion for Dale to stand too, since he has a job to do now.

"Same time next week?" Cyrus asks.

Dale nods wipes his eyes then comes over to go.

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

As we get out of the elevator at the doctor's office, Austen points at the sign on the office door, which lists the doctor's names.

"Yup, that says, uh, cantaloupe."

She stops pointing and swings my arm around as she holds my hand beside me.

Walker whispers, "She's going to have trouble learning to read when she's older."

"That's a later problem," I respond.

He gets the door for me, and Austen gives him a big smile as she walks into the doctor's office. The three of us pass by the waiting room chairs and go up to the secretary's desk.

"Uh, we have an appointment for Austen Beck," I say.

The lady types the letters into her computer, but her face ends up puzzled.

"Hmm. I can't find it. Does she have a middle name?"

"Nope," Walker answers. "We forgot about that."

She brushes that off and tries searching for the name again, this time getting a smile.

"My mistake. I mistyped it. Yes, I have you here. Doctor Wang will be right out."

 _Oh no._ Austen's mouth opens in an instant of terror, and a huge wail comes flying out, along with tons of tears. I pick her up and carry her over to a seat to sit her on my lap, and she continues to bawl.

"No, not doctor," I lie, but she doesn't stop.

The secretary stands up out of her chair, completely confused, asking, "Did I say something?"

"No, you're alright," Walker assures her. "She's just afraid of the doctor."

The repeatition of that word again makes Austen scream, and now the few others in the waiting room have stopped trying to ignore it, and they're staring.

"Shhh," I whisper.

She's not having it. Instead, she starts squirming to get off my lap, and she clunks down on the carpet, landing on her bum, tears soaking the neckline of her shirt now.

"We need to calm her down before the...you know...comes out," Walker says.

"I know."

I look at Austen again, thinking, and then a lightbulb flashes in my head, and I look to my husband.

"I have an idea."

"Will it work?" Walker asks.

"I'ma say there's about a thirty percent chance."


	132. S4 E1.3: High School

**Brayden's POV**

The swarm of people comes again when lunch begins, and the hallways turn into a tide. I wait on edge of the current, beside the cafeteria doors, for my friends to meet me. Kelsey and Linny break out of the river simultaneously, joining me with their lunches.

"How was the first half of your first day?" I ask them both.

"Uh, well, I spilt paint on my dress in art," Linny replies.

She glances down at her sage green dress, which now has a navy blue splatter on the waist.

"Why didn't you wash it off?" Kelsey questions.

"I was too nervous to ask the teacher if I could."

"Oh, Linny," Kelsey mumbles.

"I just want to eat," Linny states. "Can we get a table?"

She steps around me and through the cafeteria doors, stopping the instant she enters the cluttered place. All three of us scan the rows of tables. Cliques laugh together, all of them looking significantly older than me. I do see Jayda and Andreas at a table. Jayda leans her head on Andreas's shoulder while she scrolls through her phone, and their friends around them make a racket, one of them tossing a bouncy ball across the room to another group who takes videos of the exchange. Among the chaos, not a single table sits unoccupied.

"This school seems a tad overpopulated," I state.

Up from behind us, I feel a tap on my shoulder.

"Brayden."

I turn to see my cousin, Hazel, with her cream-toned backpack hanging off one shoulder. She's added dangly, beaded strawberry earrings since I last saw her this morning. They look like something she could've made during a class, and perhaps she did.

"Hazel, hello," I say.

Kelsey and Linny spin around after me, marking their first encounter with my cousin ever. Linny flinches slightly when she sees Hazel standing here, and Linny's eyes grow as she looks over Hazel, from her dark hair to the hem of her daisy-printed dress.

"Hi," Hazel says to my friends. "I'm Brayden's cousin."

Linny doesn't speak, but Kelsey responds, "Hey."

"You looking for a place to eat?" Hazel asks.

"Unsuccessfully," I answer.

"I figured. Follow me."

She starts down the hallway, and without any other options given, my friends and I trail behind her cluelessly as she takes a stairwell downward. She pushes heavy doors open into the basement of the school, the first floor. Apparently, this level comes alive at lunch, for the wide halls are embroidered with students on either side, lining the corridor that we walk down.

This has a distinct form of liveliness from that of the cafeteria, which was rough and intimidating. Down here, it's intimidating too, but not due to socially-adept cool kids, but instead because of black fishnet tights, neon hair, and unique hobbies taking place. Two friends, one with a septum piercing, and the other with a stud in her cheek, are drawing with whiteboard markers on the lockers behind them. A little farther down, a group of six kids are all attempting to deepthroat a banana. Next to them, two girls have a toaster plugged into the wall and are currently cooking a bagel in it.

At the rounded corner wall of the hall, three kids sit together. These are the ones Hazel stops at to sit down. She leans her back against the brick wall and slides down beside a curly-haired boy I remember meeting briefly at some point, then she looks up at me.

"You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna sit with us?"

That reminds me that I am not a third-person in this situation, but I am instead an active character, and I drop down across from Hazel and her three friends. Linny sits down between me and Hazel, and Kelsey takes my right side, next to a girl with hair dyed bright orange and a plethora of chain and beaded jewelry whom I forget the name of.

"This is Darius, Fatima, and Aimée," Hazel says, pointing to each person. "Guys, this is Brayden, as you've met, and his friends."

"I'm Kelsey."

"Linny."

Hazel's friends begin their dining, so I unzip my lunch bag too and take out my sandwich to bite while listening to the others talk.

"How's high school treating you so far?" Darius asks me mid-bite.

I lower my food to reply, "Everyone's bigger. Makes it difficult to dodge them all in the hallways."

He laughs, saying, "Yeah, that's the freshman life."

Darius moves his eyes onto Linny who's in the middle of sipping a juicebox, and she freezes when the attention hits her.

"You in art?" he asks her.

She brings her beverage down and responds, "Yeah. Do I look like an artist?"

"Sure, but you also have paint on you," Darius points out with a chuckle.

"Oh, yeah," Linny says as she frowns at the stain again. "I'm not the neatest. I'm really good at ruining my dresses."

"It still looks cute," Hazel tells her, which causes a huge blush to take over Linny's face as my friend looks down at her lap and starts sucking on her straw again.

Suddenly, the clunk of heavy boots redirects my eyes onto a platform-shoed girl in full goth style. Her face is done up pure white with harsh black lines framing her eyes that point down on the inner edges, and black lipstick.

"Yo, Grace!" Aimée shouts, getting the girl's attention. "How'd it go?"

"Same as last year," the goth girl, Grace, responds in an unexpectedly delicate voice. "Might be suspended. Whatever."

She carries on down the hall, but her final statement sparks questions.

"What did she do?" Kelsey asks.

"Grace gets called to the office every day for her makeup," Fatima explains. "Apparently it scares people."

"The youngest kids here are fourteen," Aimée says. "If they're scared by some sophomore's makeup, they need to grow up."

I look at my cousin and begin to ask, "Are all your friends..."

"Alt?" she finishes for me. "Yeah. Jayda and Andreas are pretty much my only link to the normal side of the school." She grins a little and says, "You didn't expect that?"

"I didn't have a preconceived idea," I lie.

I certainly did imagine what her friends would be like. Although I'd met her three friends sitting with us before, I assumed the rest of the people she interacted with would be just as soft as her fairy girl aesthetic implies.

"Lovely," Hazel says with a smile.

While my cousin continues eating her lunch, my friends start to converse with Hazel's, and I realize our groups have somehow melted together as successfully as putting strawberries in lemonade.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Austen's given up on being cranky, but she's still just as upset, only now she has her head buried in my jacket as she sits in a ball on my lap. Jonah left a while ago to follow through with his plan, and finally I see him coming out from the hallway where the doctors' rooms are. Then behind him, our doctor comes wearing a plastic crown and costume wings with her doctor coat.

"Austen Beck," Dr. Wang calls out.

Austen whips her head around, her teary eyes freezing at the sight of the doctor. Instantly, Austen lets go of my shirt and climb off my lap to waddle up to the woman, staring in awe.

"Your fairy godmother is ready for you," Jonah says.

"Yes," Dr. Wang agrees. "As your fairy godmother, I have to check your health. Does that sound alright?"

My daughter continues gawking at the doctor, not saying a word.

"I'll take that as a yes," the doctor says.

She begins walking down the hall, but Austen reaches up for her hand, so she slows down to take it, letting the little girl cling to her in wonder. As they go, Jonah and I follow a bit behind to avoid our daughter hearing while we talk.

"Where did you get that costume?" I question.

"Lost and found," Jonah answers. "It looks like we're not the first people to try this."

I smile at that. "I can't wait to see what you come up with when it's time for her to go to the dentist."

"I'll start brainstorming," he replies with a grin.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

Right as I slide the dish into the oven, Hazel comes out to see me and Andi in the kitchen.

"What smells good?" our daughter asks.

"I can't pronounce it, but I think there's oregano in it," I respond.

"Well, that's probably not the majority of the smell, but cool. Can't wait."

She returns to her bedroom, and Andi flips the pages of the recipe book, browsing at the other ones we didn't try tonight.

"I may have underestimated these recipes," she says.

"You have?" I say, happy to see her finally seeming to not be anxious about this new diet thing.

"I expected it to smell a lot plainer," Andi admits.

"You expected it to just be raw vegetables?"

"I don't know."

"We could do that too," I say. "I hear raw vegan is amazing for your health."

She smiles and closes the recipe book before turning to face me.

"Thank you for being so on board with this," she tells me.

Honestly, I'm a bit shocked. "Andi, we've been married for almost to twenty years. You need to stop thanking me."

"I'm thankful," she justifies.

"I'm your wife. And you're mine. And a wife changes her diet when the other wife has to change hers. I'm not that in love with sugar and chemicals anyway."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"I love whatever you're making," comes Hazel's voice again as she peeks her head back into the kitchen. "How much longer?"

Andi smiles at our daughter's excitement and says, "Give it fifteen more minutes."

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

It's past dark, but the light in the kitchen illuminates Cyrus's book for him as he sits at the kitchen island reading, waiting for me. When he gives me a smile, I curl around counter and slip my arms around his waist, leaning in to kiss the spot beneath his ear.

"You smell like smoke," he utters with a laugh.

"So you spent your vacation day being a therapist at the station," I say on another note.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I just care too much sometimes to not try to help people."

I grin as I let go of him and occupy the stool beside his.

"Don't apologize for that," I tell him. "That's what I love about you."

"And you too," he responds with a soft smile. "You didn't lose anyone today I hope."

"Nope. Got everyone out safe and sound."

His smile curls a bit more as he says, "Sounds like that calls for a celebration."

Picking up what he's laying out, I grin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. But take a shower."

I nod and get up, muttering, "Right."

Then as I'm just leaving the kitchen, I hear Cyrus add one more thing: "I'll meet you there."

With a grin, I look back, linking eyes with my husband another time before heading upstairs.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, friends! I love you all, and thank you so much fro reading! Season 4 is going to be a wild trip, which I can't wait to give you all. Next episode is in a week. Have a wonderful day!


	133. S4 E2.1: Dada Deficiency

**Andreas's POV**

Breaking off from one of the main hallways in Grant is a tiny corridor leading to only the janitor's closet and a gender-neutral washroom. The corner of the walls disguise me while I wait for my girlfriend to pass by. When I see her approaching, a grin grows on my face, pushed up by her presence, and she tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Hey," I say. "I didn't interrupt anything good, did I?"

"We were watching Felix mumble a presentation on the Sistine Chapel while the girl in the desk in front of me wrote a Pope Julius X Michelangelo fanfiction," she replies. "You literally saved me."

"Good. Because I have a plan."

"A plan?" she repeats in surprise.

"Uh-huh," I confirm. "I planned it about ten minutes ago, but still a plan."

I hook my hand around hers, and she spins on her toes as I pull her around back out to the main hallway. We take the usual path: the right side stairwell that no one uses. Her thin heels make shallow clicks as she trots down the steps with me. At the ground level, an emergency exit interrupts the stairwell, and that's the one we take to get outside.

The sun blares down on us, but nobody's out here to see us at this time. Jayda comes out the door after me, holding my hand tight, and seizing the opportunity, I swing her into me and kiss her lips. The on-a-whim action solidifies as Jayda steps forward, backing me against the brick wall of the building, her lips maintaining their spell on me. When the spiral of spontaneity fizzles, I lift my hand and brush behind her shoulder the hair that's fallen in front.

"So what's this plan?" Jayda wonders.

"Uh, Starbucks?"

"You didn't have a plan."

"Nope."

I take her hand again and start strolling down the path toward the parking lot. She soon adjusts her fingers to interlace between mine, triggering butterflies that I might as well name at this point.

Right when we're about to touch the parking lot pavement, we freeze, seeing a teacher we know, Mrs. LaPrade, coming our direction from her own car.

"Mr. Driscoll and Miss Kippen," she says, folding her arms over her chest. "Someone better be dying for you two to be out of class again. Go back inside."

"In class, I might as well be dying," Jayda grumbles.

"What's that, Miss Kippen?" Mrs. LaPrade says, hardening her glare.

"Huh?" Jayda chirps innocently.

I hold in my laughter as I step back, pulling Jayda with me. She turns around and trudges back toward the school, annoyed, but I kinda find it cute.

"Damn it," she huffs.

"We'll go another time," I tell her.

"Yeah, but another time isn't this time," she complains. "Why is time so stupid and temporary?"

We open the doors to reenter the school, the main doors this time, since the side ones are always locked from the outside. In the foyer, I turn to her and smile, contrasting her disappointment.

"On the bright side," I say, "I bet Felix will be done his presentation."

"That is a very bright side," she responds with a chuckle.

She rises on her tip toes to kiss my cheek before backing away, waving as she heads off in opposite directions.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

The lighting in my TA's office is yellow, like a fifty year-old wedding dress. I don't remember it feeling this much like a coffin—crammed and dim, her desk barely fitting in between the walls—but I guess the bags under their eyes look like they're on the verge of death all the time anyway, so it suits them. A Kashan-style rug pillows my shoes with gemstone tones, which I notice as I sit down on the crooked, plastic chair.

"Hi. Is that a new rug?"

"Yes," Mrs. Barry responds dully, "last year. You would know if you ever came to meet with me."

"Oh. Well, it's cute."

"I heard you skipped class today."

What annoys me about my teacher advisor is that she talks to me like I try to be horrible, which totally isn't true. I'm just good at it, so I'm not gonna not do what I'm good at.

"Only for, like, five minutes," I argue.

"Jayda," she says in a huge sigh, "you can't be doing that anymore. You're in your last year, and you need to be thinking about how your behaviour will look to colleges. Have you considered where you want to go?"

"Uh, probably just U of Shadyside."

I don't really know many colleges other than that. I don't even know what I want to do. Who decided it would be a good idea to make seventeen-year-old me decide my entire life now?

"Well, you need to buckle down and start caring about your classes, or you won't make it there," Mrs. Barry states.

What am I supposed to do with that? Obviously, I need to work harder. Literally every teacher I've ever had has told me that. But, like, work harder for what? To work a boring 9-5 job until I can retire and take up needlepoint or something? I'd rather be making the most of my last year of being able to screw around without lasting consequences.

"Cool," I say, standing up from my chair. "Well, have a good day."

"Jayda, we have more to talk about."

"Send me an email."

"You don't check your email."

"Oh, oops."

I give her a fake smile before dipping out of her office.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

The banging coming from the basement rattles Cyrus's glass of water as he reads calmly at the round table.

I enter the kitchen, questioning, "What the hell are they doing down there?"

"Playing _Rock 'n' Roll Band_ ," Cyrus answers. "I regret buying him that game."

**Wyatt's POV**

The toy drums shriek dead thunks under Cody's smacks with the drumsticks as he hits every note that video game orders. Jake's got the bass, precisely pressing the buttons, and I've got guitar. My score? Perfect. When the song finishes, we cheer and look at the TV screen. We got a 95%.

"Cody!" Jake immediately shouts. "You can't do a drum solo in every song! We would've gotten a hundred!"

"Without a drum solo, what's the point?" Cody throws back.

"We still broke our old record," I tell them.

"Also, I broke your drum stick," Cody says, raising the snapped nub of wood. I don't know where the other half went, but I'm sure my dads will find it eventually.

"I'll get a new one," I respond.

"Overall, I think we're pretty good," Jake says.

Cody nods, but I get an idea beyond just agreeing.

"Hey, what if we started a real band?" I propose.

"Wyatt, none of us know any instruments," Jake says.

"We could learn! My uncle teaches guitar, and you can learn anything on Youtube."

"I'm down," Cody replies with a shrug.

Jake takes a moment to consider it, looking to Cody to ask, "Girls like musicians, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Cody confirms with a grin.

"Then I'm in too."

"Awesome!" I exclaim. "Now all we have to do is get instruments...and learn how to play them."

"My dad's in a band," Jake reminds us. "He has drums and a bass and a guitar. But you can't break them."

That last part is aimed at Cody who just responds, "No promises."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

My eyes drift away from my laptop as Marty carries Declan over to the couch beside my seat in the living room. The little boy stares at his dad with an open mouth when Marty sits him upright on the sofa, our baby's back against the back of the seat. Reaching to pick up a bubble-textured balls from the ground, Marty lets go of his hold on Declan. Within a second, our son starts to tip over, the baby's face remaining care-free.

"Marty," I say.

Marty suddenly notices it too and grabs our son again, fixing his position.

"Sorry," he says. "Forgot he does that."

Declan giggles and reaches out for the ball that Marty's set next to him on the couch. It's only inches away from Declan's little hand, but our son hasn't figured out how to move closer yet, so Marty has to bring it to him. Once he receives the toy, Declan grips on tight and shakes it around like a maraca, although it makes no noise save for the slapping of its rubber on the couch cushion. This keeps Declan thoroughly entertained while Marty keeps one hand on his waist to prevent him from falling over again.

"So how was work?" I ask Marty.

Marty turns his attention to me to answer, "Pretty good. I'm working on a new ad for employees."

With Marty's focus off Declan, his hand has slipped from the boy's waist, and our baby's starting to tilt again.

"Marty."

Marty reacts quick, lifting Declan upright once again as Declan continues to play with the ball.

"What did _you_ do today?" Marty asks me.

"I'm getting back into the rhythm of working," I respond. "But it is hard to focus on my computer when this cutie is around."

Declan's grin turns into a giggle as I look at him.

"How about I take the day off tomorrow to stay home and watch him so that you aren't distracted?" Marty offers.

"Would you really? Thank you."

"No problem."

Marty gives me a smile, and Declan's smile leans one more time.

"Marty."

"Okay, you know what?" Marty says, picking up our son entirely. "You're going on the floor instead."

Marty carries Declan over to the baby mat that we've had spread out for the past few months at least. Declan is plopped down on the mat like placing a water droplet from your finger onto a table. He immediately props himself up on his arms and looks ahead at nothing in particular. Then he does something brand new.

"Mama," he utters.

I gasp. "What did he say?"

Then he says it again. "Mama."

Overjoyed, I run over to my baby boy and give him a fat kiss on the head.

"That's his first word!" I exclaim.

Marty is smiling as wide as me, and he looks down at our son, asking, "Can you say dada?"

"Mama."

At that response, a faint frown crosses my husband's face.

"He's just babbling," I say. "He probably doesn't even know what it means."

"That's fine," Marty says, but he still sounds hurt. "We're gonna have our whole day together tomorrow, so maybe he'll say dada then, huh?"

"Mama," Declan prattles again.

His soul clearly crushed, Marty stands up, saying, "I'm gonna get dinner started."

As he leaves the room, I turn my eyes back to our son, feeling a bit bad for Marty, but Declan of course has no understanding of the situation his baby talk had caused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S4 E2.1: Dada Deficiency


	134. S4 E2.2: Dada Deficiency

**Jayda's POV**

None of the pillows on the couch in Andreas's basement match. They used to all have pairs, but years of interesting ideas by young Andreas and current Cara have lead to them being torn or lost or burnt. I tug my white cardigan around my torso to preserve my body heat in the chill of the under-heated basement, but Andreas's arm helps me out as he slides in next to me, setting the popcorn bowl down on the table. I shift to find my place against his chest, letting his arm encompass me like a ribbon on a present.

"What movie are you thinking?" he asks.

With my head now tucked just beneath his, he presses a kiss to my head, an automatic action for him, and I roll over and pull myself up, aligning our chests, so that my lips can reach his and kiss them, an automatic reaction for me, as though the tenderness of that tiny head kiss isn't near enough. And I do admit, it's nothing compared to this, the open desire, the perfect loss of poise, ignoring of manners and just giving up in a way that says _I want you more than a kiss on the head._ _I want you enough to disrupt our pattern of steadiness and kiss you harder._

"Ew!" comes Cara's reaction as they pass by the two of us making out. "Jayda, I thought you were a vegan! Quit eating his face!"

I didn't actually even realize they were down here in one of the other rooms. Although it's just Andreas's sibling, my face still goes red from slight embarrassment. Andreas, on the other hand, just sits up and whips a pillow at them in annoyance, which makes them scream and laugh as they dash upstairs.

With that dealt with, Andreas takes my jaw in his hand again and continues with what we were doing before the interruption, and after about another minute or so, I finally break away and sit up properly, fixing my cardigan which has fallen off one shoulder.

"So a movie," I say.

"Oh, we're still doing that?" Andreas responds.

That makes me grin, and I reach for a few kernels of popcorn to snack on while using the controller to scroll through the options on Netflix. Naturally, I end up leaning back into Andreas's arms, and as soon as I do, an explosion of pamphlets like confetti drop on top of us, and we both glance back to see Brayden behind the arm of the couch.

"You left these upstairs," he says before leaving as fast as he came.

I pick up the one on my chest and flip it open. It's for a college, Utah State University. The others are all for more schools: University of Utah, Westminster College, Dixie State University, even some as far as Ohio State University. I only started thinking about college today, but he's already collected a million pamphlets—and they're for schools away from me.

My heart pops and drains the helium keeping it afloat, causing it to come plummeting into the ocean faster than light, faster than my uneasy lungs can keep track of. It makes me feel dizzy for a second as the dark blue water beats it farther down. Was I just gullible to assume he wasn't considering going anywhere other than University of Shadyside? Like, I thought he'd stay here. I thought we wouldn't be divided by hours of driving and high gas prices. _I thought we'd last._

I don't mean to sound so frail, but when I speak, it sounds like a wounded butterfly. "You're thinking about college too?"

"Yeah," he responds, oblivious to my rapid-water mind. "My TA is telling me I have to start thinking about applications soon so that I can have a chance at getting in."

"Mine too," I mutter. "I don't even know what I want to do."

"I have a few ideas for myself: criminology, political science, entrepreneurship, maybe journalism or film."

I bend one corner of the pamphlet I'm holding as I look at my reflection in its glossy finish.

"Not U of S?" I utter.

"Oh." Andreas plucks the booklet from my hand and pushes the rest off onto the floor like they're crumbs leftover from a cake. "Yeah, that was... I was just looking."

He was just looking. So he was thinking. He thought maybe he wanted to go away somewhere. But he was just looking, so he doesn't actually want to, right? He wants to be here, because he knows that if he left, he'd be leaving me, and this magic, well, it would end. We would end. It would be inevitable. But if he wants to leave... He was just looking.

"You picking a movie?" Andreas asks.

I try to press the buttons on the controller, but the bones in my finger creak, too weak.

"You can pick it," I say, handing the remote to Andreas.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

When I close the refrigerator door, I spin around to see Brayden in the yellow light of his kitchen. His appearance scares me enough that I flinch, and a splash of water spills on the floor. Brayden simply flicks his eyes down, not commenting as I smudge the drop into the floor with my foot. Then Brayden extends his hand, holding a few more pamphlets, as if everything downstairs wasn't enough, like Andreas needs more choices of where he could run away to.

"Can you give these to Andreas when you go back down?" Brayden asks.

I take the four more school names reluctantly. These ones aren't even in Utah. As I flip through the options, the air gets stuffier, and the ocean in my stomach spins into a whirlpool, dragging my heavy heart downward.

"He's thinking about these places?" I say utter.

"Not so much the learning aspects," Brayden explains. "He's been talking talking about the recreation centre at this school for days, though."

He points to one of the pamphlets, but it doesn't really matter which one. They all mean the same thing. They all mean he wants to leave me.

"I've been trying to tell him that it's also a fine educational institution," Brayden goes on, "but he just wants to go for the fun stuff."

Brayden leaves me at that. Well, it probably wasn't so sudden. I think he waited for me to respond but gave up when I didn't. I don't know what I'm supposed to say to this, to realizing my boyfriend wants to leave for a school hours away, meaning we won't be able to be together past this summer. And I would never stop him from going to the school of his dreams, because I guess colleges are, like, a big thing or whatever. But am I just supposed to be able to spend the next however many months pretending like every moment I have with him isn't temporary, like every kiss isn't just a count down until the last?

I want to rip up the pamphlets, but he'd find them, or he'd get new ones. I couldn't actually do anything to change this.

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

With the rest of the kids at school, the house is quiet, and the basement is empty, letting me set up Declan's toys on the carpet. While he lies on his stomach, I pick up a plastic car, which has wheels filled with coloured balls to make it rattle.

"You want to play with the cars?"

My son immediately reaches to grab the car from my hand, and I lift him over to a rug designed with a city roadway image. Immediately, Declan starts rolling the car down the street, precisely following the lines.

"Hey, you're a pretty good driver," I compliment.

Then he lets go of the car, leaving it right in front of the picture of a house with a driveway.

"Oh, but you park like your brother," I add.

He grins then slaps the car, making it zip across the rug and laughing in response.

"Now you're driving like your brother's girlfriend."

He giggles a bit more then decides to speak for the first time since yesterday, saying the only think he knows, "Mama."

"Mama's doing work," I tell him. "But I'm here. I'm Dada."

Declan lifts his head to look up at me. He takes a minute, squinting hard at my face, and then, as though forgetting what he was doing, he grabs another toy car off the ground and shoves it in his mouth.

"Mamamama," he gurgles.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

I stick close to the right side of the hallway between classes. It's always best to just stay out of the way of the group of obnoxious seniors who think they own the entire space, which, not surprisingly, are friends of Andreas. not his close friends, but friends, vaguely. Now is when I should see Jayda curl around the teens to link hands with Andreas, since they walk the same direction, although they have different classes.

There it is. Jayda comes emerging from her classroom, Andreas passing by her doorway... _Okay, that's weird._ Jayda dips left into the wave of people, letting Andreas look around for her for a moment before giving up and carrying on. That was active avoidance. I have to know why.

I take a detour, tracing Jayda's trail into a stairwell she usually doesn't take. When I catch up beside her, she flinches and starts walking a bit faster down the stairs.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey," she responds blandly.

"What was that about?"

"What are you talking about?" she sasses.

Since she's clearly avoiding my question too, I start coming up with my own answers.

"Are you and Andreas in a fight?"

"What? No. That's stupid."

"Then why did you just deliberately turn the other way when you saw him?"

"I totally didn't," she lies.

"You totally did," I say, copying her tone.

She lets out a huff as she pushes the door to the second level open, mumbling, "Aren't you just a little smart-ass today."

As soon as she steps into the hall, I wind around in front of her, cutting off her path and making her stop. Behind her, the stream of people looks annoyed, having to split to pass by us.

"What's wrong?" I question.

"Nothing," she insists. When I don't move, she lets out a sigh. "Nothing yet. He's planning to go to a university not in Shadyside."

Andreas leaving Jayda? That doesn't sound right. But I guess if it's true, I can see why Jayda would be bummed. Still, she's got almost a year before then.

"Well, that's a while away," I tell her.

"Yeah," she mutters. "I guess." Her eyes brush over the floor while she remains quiet. Then after a minute, she says, "Look, I have to go to class."

She rushes around me, hurrying into her next classroom, and I stand, concerned, for a few more seconds before remembering I have class to get to too.


	135. S4 E2.3: Dada Deficiency

**Jonah's POV**

I almost drop the guitar I'm in currently hanging on the wall of Red Rooster Records when Wyatt shouts behind me.

"Uncle Jonah I need to learn the guitar!"

Hearing the loud boy, Bowie rushes out from the back of the store, but he's relieved when it's just Wyatt.

"Hi, Bowie," Wyatt says.

I finish putting the guitar on the hooks and turn to him, saying in surprise, "You want to learn the guitar? What made you want to do that?"

Don't get me wrong. I'm pumped that he wants to learn it, but I'm pretty sure last week he told me that guitars were for medieval knight-rejects in tights.

"Me and my friends are starting a band," he explains.

"Cool!" Bowie reacts. "You know I was in a band."

Wyatt clearly doesn't really care as he responds, "Cool, so which one of you wants to teach me?"

I glance to Bowie and shrug then reply, "I got time."

Wyatt follows me over to the nook where I have my guitar waiting on a stand, and he plops down on a chairs. Right away, he grabs one of the other acoustic guitars nearby and grips the neck in a fist as he places it on his lap.

"Okay, let's just fix this first," I say then lean forward and pry his hand off the neck before placing the fingers down loosely over the strings instead.

"Which string is the green button?" Wyatt then questions.

"The what?"

"Like in _Rock 'n' Roll Band_."

"Uh, there isn't a green button. These are notes. E B G D A E. You can change the note by putting your finger on a string."

Wyatt attempts to do as described, poking one of the strings then whipping his guitar pick down, playing the instrument with the violence of a butcher trying to chop through bone.

As the clashing sound dissolves, he asks, "How do I know what my score is?"

I sigh. "This is gonna be a _real_ beginner lesson huh?"

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Around 7:00, it should be Declan's bedtime soon, so I go to my room to check on how Marty's doing with him. There, Marty is sitting on our bed, holding Declan in his lap while showing the baby something on a tablet.

"And this is a Jeep Wrangler."

"What'cha doing?" I ask as I enter in.

"He's into cars, so I thought I'd get him educated," Marty explains with a smile.

"Cool. Now he knows every car model and every princess's name," I respond with a chuckle.

"That's why Cara made him have that movie marathon with them?" Marty realizes.

"Mama," Declan chirps out of the blue.

He's not even looking at me. Rather, he's pointing at the picture on the tablet, but Marty still gets a frown. He had high hopes for this day from the beginning, and although he must know it's not personal, he clearly feels defeated. To try to give my husband some comfort, I take a seat next to him on the bed, touching his shoulder gently.

"You know it doesn't mean anything," I affirm. "This is the only sound he's figured out how to make."

"Yeah, I know," Marty mutters.

He bends his head down and gives our son a little kiss on the head. That causes the baby to perk up in surprise. Then Marty kisses my lips, shallow and blue, sharing his disappointment in his dullness.

"You're a wonderful dad," I tell him, "even if he can't say it yet."

Marty gives me a fragile smile and responds softly, "Thanks." Then he releases a breath. "I guess I should give him a bath. Hold him while I get a towel?"

He passes off our baby to me then leaves to go to the linen closet down the hall. The instant he's gone, Declan speaks again, but this time, it's something else.

"Dada."

My lips break into a smile as I turn my son to face at me, him giggling and bubbling spit that I have to wipe from his chin.

"You couldn't have said that sooner?" I say.

All of a sudden, Marty's head pops through the doorway again excitedly. "Did I hear that right?"

"Dada," Declan repeats.

"Yes!" Marty cheers.

He runs up, a towel over one arm, and lifts Declan up into the air triumphantly. Then he squeezes him in a hug.

"I love you," Marty tells him.

Declan babbles in response, "Awawoo."

Marty's eyes light up. "Did he just say 'I love you'?"

"Sure," I respond with a laugh.

Marty smiles even wider and takes our son into the washroom for his bath.

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

Jake shouts, "1, 2, 3, 4!"

The racket of all our instruments erupts like a volcano with lava of noise. I don't know why we sound so much worse now than we did playing _Rock 'n' Roll Band_. I blame Jake's basement. The low ceiling probably messes with the acoustics.

"Stop! Stop!" Jake orders, and our music dies out. "Wyatt," he says, "you gotta change the chord. You can't play the same one the whole time."

"It's the only one I know!" I argue.

"Cody," he goes on, "keep the beat steady."

"You can't contain the music of my soul," Cody retorts.

Jake shakes his head and takes off his bass.

"This isn't working," he huffs.

"We just have to practice," I counter. "We'll get it."

"Can we get doughnuts instead?" Cody suggests, switching my goal in an instant.

"Yeah, I'm down," I reply, setting down my guitar on its stand.

Cody and I start toward the stairs, but Jake seems annoyed.

"We're just quitting?" he says.

I give Cody a glance then respond, "Well, I kinda want a doughnut."

"What about the girls?" Jake complains.

"Girls like doughnuts too," Cody reasons.

Jake thinks on that for a second before saying, "Good point," and hurries to tag along.

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

The darkness would make me struggle to climb the tree in Jayda's front yard, but I've done this many times now that it's become second-nature. When I knock on her window, it takes her longer than normal to open up, but, like, I can see her there. She just sits on her bed for an extra moment before turning around and sliding the window open.

Her eyelids are decorated with a shimmery silver colour tonight, which sparkles as I climb in and improve my view of the rest of her figure. A knitted sweater drapes over her but doesn't swallow her, for she's tucked one part into her black skirt, letting the width of her waist stay visible. The colour of the sweater is burnt pumpkin orange. She's probably just wearing it because it's fall, and that's, like, a thing people do in fall. But still, orange is my favorite colour, because it's the one I can see the best, and I'd like to think she thought of me when choosing it out.

"Woah," I say, exposing my obvious attraction to her.

"What?" she wonders.

I sit down beside her on her bed and respond, "I just remembered again how beautiful you are."

She smiles a little, but it fades as soon as it comes. Then she gets up off the bed and folds her arms, tucking her hands into her elbows, and I get the vibe that something's off.

"Yo, you good?"

She doesn't answer. Instead, her eyes drop away from mine onto her feet. _That's not good._ Silence is never good. I'm pretty sure silence is what happens in horror movies right before someone gets stabbed.

"Andreas," her voice cracks out, like on the verge of an earthquake, "we should break up."

I'm paralyzed, face blank, speechless. Did I hear that right? She wants to break up? This must be a joke. Like, there's no way she... Huh?

"What?" is all I finally say.

"We're not going to last," she says like that explains anything. "Soon, we'll be in different places, and we might as well just end it now."

Different places? I don't understand what that's supposed to mean. Where is she going?

"What are you talking about?" I question, rising to my feet.

"I can't pretend like we aren't going to college," she says, confusing me more.

"What?"

She doesn't answer. Instead, she places her hand on my jaw, her thumb dragging over my cheek like mould growing on a plum. And then she kisses me, poisoning my lips with a bitter taste I don't think I'll ever be able to get rid of. Still, I take in the slow, rotten remains of what took years to sprout yet only a minute to die.

When her lips pull away, she steps back from me like I could give her a virus if she's too close.

"You should leave," she whispers.

"This has to be a joke."

"Drey, please," she begs.

I don't understand it. I don't understand one thing about this, and I don't like it. I hate every part of it. I hate the air between us. I hate the silence. I even hate her burnt pumpkin orange sweater for doing exactly what it says it will: burn.

But I have no power right now. I have none, and I'm not going to take away hers. So I do as asked. I climb back through the window. And I can't believe the nerve of this woman, the nerve she has, because when I find my seat on the tree branch, she utters to me in a voice so soft, a voice that could rip me apart like paper in a river if she hadn't already done that: "Bye."

She shuts the window, and then her blinds, leaving only the navy blue lightless night for me for me to view. I feel like I just skim-read through a chapter of my math textbook. I saw all the words, but I can't tell you what any of them mean. _What the hell was that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry! I posted late. I was going to post early, but im a dumb and forgot. Thanks yall for reading. Next episode next Monday.


	136. S4 E3.1: Colleges and Collages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise. I couldn't leave y'all there.

**Andreas's POV**

Brayden's in our room when I get home. His laptop creates the only light at this time of night, making his pupils go small even though the rest of the room is pitch black. When I get to my bed, every one of my muscles gives up, and I fall onto my back like an icicle shattering on cement, still trying to process the events of earlier. 

We're broken up. It doesn't make sense in my head or out loud. I repeated that fact while driving home from Jayda's house, but it might as well be in German. I went over to her house to see my girlfriend, and instead she tells me she's not that anymore. Like, what the hell? 

"I don't normally care," Brayden says, suddenly reminding me that he's here, "but you appear distraught."

"I think... I have no frickin clue what the hell just happened."

"Oh, so nothing out of the ordinary," Brayden mutters like his smart-ass self. 

"I think Jayda just dumped me," I tell him. 

That makes him actually care, at least enough to look at me in surprise. 

"What did you do?" he asks. 

"Nothing!" I reply a bit too angrily. 

I stop to let myself calm down, but it's long enough that Brayden thinks of an explanation. 

"Perhaps you did misunderstand then," he suggests. "It wouldn't be surprising."

Normally, I'd be annoyed by how he thinks I'm too dumb to understand anything, but in this case, I'm hoping he's right. If being an idiot would make me still Jayda's boyfriend, then I want to be that so bad. 

"Yeah," I mumble, trying to be hopeful. "Maybe she was just...angry? Like, she couldn't mean it." My voice seems to get soaked up by the room like a black ink spill. "I hope."

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

"Okay, everyone listen up!" Mr. Nelson shouts to our chattering class. "Kyle, no one cares what you think of Laine's haircut. Close your mouth and be nice. Bradley, put your chips away. This isn't a Chipotle."

Everybody shuts up, and I drop my paper that I'm been trying to fold into a coyote. Jake and Cody are better at being still than I am. They don't move at all in their desks beside me, but I end up reaching for the paper again, continuing the art while our teacher speaks. 

"I'm assigning you a project. You and a partner I pair you with will have to make a presentation on the dangers of alcohol."

"Presentations are ableist," Mira says from the back corner of the classroom.

I guess Mr. Nelson doesn't hear it, because he carries on unaffected. "Okay, Taylor, you're with Gabby. Martin and Steve. Wyatt and Hiral..."

I stop listening there, turning to my friends to whisper, "Hiral? Man, she's gonna make me do work."

"Man, that sucks," Jake responds, but he's smiling because of his own situation. "I got Avery, so I'll be free all week."

Suddenly, Avery spins around in her chair two rows ahead of Jake and says, "Don't think I'm gonna do the whole project for you. And if you don't try, I will be requesting you get a zero."

She turns back ahead, and Jake groans. 

"At least you're not stuck with Kyle," Cody grumbles. 

All three of us glance over at where Kyle is using his hockey stick to attempt to dribble a pop can on the floor. The show is interrupted by Hiral who walks up to me with her books hugged up to her chest, even though she could've just left them on her desk. She tucks a lock of her black hair behind the giant orange bow clip beside her ear and flickers her eyes downward every once in a while as she talks to me. 

"Hi, Wyatt," she says cheerfully. "It looks like we're partners." 

There's a strand of hair over her lips while she talks. Does it not bother her? She must not feel it. It's really annoying watch.

"So...?"

I reroute my attention back to her words that I've been ignoring. "Sorry, what?"

She smiles awkwardly and starts over, saying, "If you want to come to my house after school, we can start working on it." She pauses. "Or we can go to your house if that's preferable," she adds, getting flustered as she squeezes her books tighter. "It's whatever you'd like. I'm flexible. With location, I mean."

Cody and Jake snicker behind her, and her face bakes red. She must be mad at them. I'll have to ask what the joke was, because it sounds funny, but I missed it. 

"We'll do my house," I say. "Then I can play games while we work on it."

Hiral nods, her smile going limp before returning to shape. "Okay. Can I meet you at your locker after the bell?"

"Fine, but don't touch it."

"Why not?" she asks with a little giggle. 

"Well, you can, but it might be sticky," I warn.

She takes that in with a nod and walks away. 

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

Amber places the two mugs down on the coffee table in front of my parents. My dad picks it up immediately and furrows his brows as he looks at it. 

"How chocolate?" he says. "I thought you were making tea."

The realization hits Amber's face as the sits down beside me on our living room couch. "Oh, yeah, I totally was. Well, we have hot chocolate now."

My dad and mom both accept the beverages regardless and take sips from their mugs. I can't drink hot chocolate anymore—too much sugar—but I didn't want tea anyway, so I'm not inconvenienced by Amber's mistake.

"So you were asking me something," I remind my dad. 

He puts down his hot chocolate, saying, "Oh, right. Yeah, I had this idea that I could make the store a bit more unique by selling some unique guitars. And you're an artist, so..."

"You want me to paint guitars?"

"Could you?"

"Yeah, sure," I reply. "I used to do a lot of guitar painting commissions in college."

"Yeah, I remember," my mom says with a laugh. "I was really confused as to why you owned so many guitars yet couldn't play one chord."

"I'll come by the shop tomorrow," I say.

"Awesome," Dad responds. "Thank you!"

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

Jayda holds her white dress down with the hand not holding a textbook, fighting with the wind, as she walks toward the parking lot. I rush past the slow kids ahead of me, catching up beside her.

"Need a ride?" I ask.

But she doesn't smile in response like she usually does. Instead, she looks upset and avoids my eyes as she answers, "No, thank you. I drove myself."

She steps on ahead a bit faster, but I match her pace.

"And you didn't hit anything on the way here?" I tease with a chuckle. 

When Jayda doesn't laugh, I quiet, feeling a thousand miles away from her right now, not right next to her. 

"Since when do you drive yourself?" I question. 

"Andreas," she says, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing the other kids to have to go around us. "We're not a couple anymore." 

I know it, but it hurts to hear it. 

"So we should just go back to being..." she struggles to find the word "...whatever we were before."

Yeah, I don't know what we were before. Friends? I guess. Family friends? But we didn't talk to each other much. We didn't even tell people at school that we knew each other. I don't want to go back to that. 

She continues forward, but I don't chase her this time. I'm not really in the mood to get rejected again.

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

My thumbs beat the game controller joysticks as I slash all the monsters before they can get to me. The plastic clacking makes Hiral flinch as she sits on the couch beside me, opening her schoolbooks on her lap. 

"So I've done a bit of research already on the dangers of alcohol," she says through the swipes of my character's sword. 

"So have I," I reply while killing another monster.

She sits up with a smile at that. "Really? What have you learned?"

I punch a button again, answering, "I know that if your sister comes home drunk, you don't tell dads or she'll make you miserable."

"What about, like, what it does to your brain and body?"

I shrug, focused on the screen while saying, "Oh, I don't know. Makes her mean."

Then Hiral snaps, "Okay, can you pause the game for a minute?" 

She presses her eyes into me, and I suddenly feel like I'm in trouble. I drop the remote, and it lands on the carpet, the fluff muffling its drop. I fold my arms over my chest and slump back against the cushion, but Hiral doesn't look pleased yet.

"The game is still going, and I can still hear the weird monster screeches," she states. 

"It helps me focus."

She releases a huge sigh and accepts that I'm not going to turn off the game. 

"What format do you want to present in?" Hiral asks. "I'm really good at posters, 'cause I like collaging."

"Sounds good to me."

She nods and waits another moment before saying, "Okay."

"I'm not good at making them, though," I tell her. 

She leans forward, smiling slightly as she responds, "But you have so many other talents. "You're funny and creative—"

"How will that help us with our project?"

"You're right," she mutters, looking down at her books. "I guess it won't."

Then she lifts her books off her lap and onto the couch as she stands up. 

"Mind if I use your washroom?" she asks. 

I shrug. "Down the hall on the right."

She gives me a nod of thanks and heads off. With her gone, I grab my controller off the ground and start playing again. 

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

An emo guitar solo rips through the clunky speaker that sits on Cayenne's bedroom carpet. The walls are grey with bright red painted to look like drips coming down from the ceiling. Her girlfriend did it—Amara, an adorable girl who draws white freckles on her nose to look like a mushroom. They really are opposite ends of the spectrum. Well, I guess Amara likes looking like a mushroom, and Cayenne likes a different kind of mushrooms, so they kind of fit.

While I'm sulking, leaning back in a black beanbag chair and staring at her star-painted ceiling, Cayenne comes through her door holding two paper tubs.

"Ice cream?" she offers. "It's dairy-free."

I take one from her and a spoon and immediately dig into the cherry dessert. Cayenne plops down into the bean bag chair beside mine, taking in a scoop from her own tub.

"Are breakups supposed to be this hard?" I question.

"I don't know. I've never been through one."

"I know this is for the better, but I see his face everywhere. Like, literally, I looked at a Mr. Clean spray bottle this morning and thought of him."

"Girl, you need to either get back together or get over him."

"Don't you think I'm trying to get over him!" I huff and shove another spoonful of ice cream in so fast I get brain freeze.

"I think you don't really want to," Cayenne counters.

"That's stupid."

"Is it?"

She lets her spoon hang on her smug-smiling lip for an extra second before digging it back into the tub. I don't respond to her statement. Not because she's right, but because it's stupid. And dumb. Obviously I want to get over Andreas. I want to get over him so bad. This wasn't supposed to hurt this much. This was supposed to spare me from hurt.

"You know Luke asked me out today," I say. "Maybe I'll tell him yes. Get my head onto someone new who won't just break my heart."

"Wow," Cayenne replies with a heavy laugh. "That's some me-level self-destructiveness."

"No, it isn't!" I defend. "Sitting here thinking about Andreas would be worse!"

"Have you tried just listening to your feelings?"

"Yes!" I pause, feeling my stomach twist like a tornado. "And right now I need them to shut up!"

I launch onto my feet and go over to the trash can to chuck my empty ice cream tub away.


	137. S4 E3.2: Colleges and Collages

**Andi's POV**

In the back of Red Rooster Records, past an office for my dad, there's a stock room filled with shelves of boxes, which today is doubling as an art studio. I begin unloading all my paint tubes onto a table, during which the door opens, and I look back to see Walker coming in. 

"Hey," he says. "I'm here to join you."

"Oh, hey! You're painting guitars with me?"

"Jonah mentioned you were doing this, and I figured I wouldn't let you do it alone."

As he gets to the table and starts browsing through the paint colours, my dad suddenly enters too, carrying an acoustic guitar. 

"Okay, I've got the finish off this one," he says as he lays it on the table in front of me and Walker. "Now, I'm thinking a tranquil image, like blues of the water, but not the intensity of the waves. More like...the whole serenity of the universe."

I nod, pretending any of that makes sense. Then I suggest instead, "How about flowers?"

"I guess I'm not paying you for this," my dad replies, "so okay."

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

My dads told me last time that I'm not allowed to play video games while working on my group project anymore, since it's rude or whatever, so Hiral and I are in the dining room today. I sit at the end of the table, and for some reason she sits in the chair immediately adjacent to mine, despite having four other options, three of which would give her more space. My dads are at the round table in the kitchen. It's far enough away to not be annoying, but it still feels like they're spying on me. 

"Okay, I brought some fun-patterned paper to make a pretty boarder on the poster," Hiral says. She pulls out a sack of colourful pages and places them next to the poster-board on the table. Next, she takes out a pencil case and some glittery rectangle sheets, saying, "I also have markers and stickers." Then a bag of rainbow feathers. "I brought feathers too, which was more of an afterthought, 'cause I wasn't sure if you liked them or not, but if you did like them, I didn't want to not have them, so I have feathers. And here are some cute buttons." She drops those on the table too. "I'm not sure what we'd do with them, but just in case, you know. Um, also glitter." The little tube sheds shimmer as it lands on the wood. 

"Cool," I say, mostly just to get her to stop pulling out stuff from her bag like it's the bag of the grandma from _Halloweentown_. 

She takes that as a compliment, smiling as she responds, "Thanks."

All of a sudden, the fridge rattles as my sister whips it open and fights with the tight shelf to get the orange juice jug out, making everything shake as she wins and slams in on the counter. Hiral gives me a worried look, but I shake my head. 

"That's just my sister," I tell her. 

"Honey, are you okay?" Daddy calls out to her from the kitchen table. 

"What? Yeah. I'm great. God! Get off my back!"

She slams the fridge shut and leans on the island while chugging the orange juice. 

"Anyway," Hiral says, getting back to business, "which paper do you like?"

"I like the plaid," I say, pointing to the red and black sheet. "It looks kinda like your hair bow."

She smiles at that, her eyes fluttering downward as she fiddles with her hair. "You like my headband?"

"Yeah, sure, I guess. It reminds me of a lumberjack."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

She smiles and picks up a pair of scissors to start cutting the plaid paper. 

"This is gonna look so good," she says. "You have such good taste."

"Thanks."

Suddenly, Jayda clears her throat so loudly that it makes Hiral flinch. 

"Wyatt, can I talk to you?" Jayda asks.

"No, thanks."

"Wyatt, get over here!"

I let out a sigh and stand up, leaving Hiral to follow my sister into the living room. When we stop there, the first thing she does is slap my arm. 

"Ow!"

"Stop being dumb!" she hisses. 

"I can't help it!"

She rolls her eyes and says, "She obviously likes you."

That makes my face scrunch up in shock and disgust. 

"Likes me? Like a crush? Gross."

Jayda slaps me again.

"Ow!"

"Not gross," she states. 

"She doesn't like me," I deny. 

Another eye-roll. "Okay, look, you don't have to like her back, but you have to be nice to her."

"Why should I trust you?" I retort. "You're clearly in the middle of a breakdown."

I point to the half-empty juice jug in her left hand. Immediately, she spins around and drops it on the coffee table before turning back to me. 

"Whether that's true or not," she says, "I'm still right."

"No, you're not. I'm gonna ask her."

"Don't do that," Jayda replies. "It'll embarrass her."

"Then what do I do?"

"If she expresses direct interest, let her down easy."

I consider that, but it just sounds like procrastinating to me, and my teachers all say I procrastinate too much as it is. 

"I'm just gonna do it now."

"No. Wyatt—"

I ignore her, returning back to the dining room, and I sit down in my chair again. Hiral's almost got all the sides of the frame cut out. 

"Hey, Hiral," I say.

She sparks up, looking surprised for some reason. 

"I don't like you that way," I tell her. 

Her face colours red as a ripe tomato, looking confused as she says, "Pardon me?"

"My sister says you have a crush on me," I explain. "You're cool, but I don't have a crush on you."

She pauses, her eyes flicking to the side, before responding, "Okay, um, I didn't have a crush on you."

"Really? That's a relief."

She laughs until it dies out, and she mutters, "Yeah."

Now I just want to get the topic onto something else, and it honestly feels a lot easier than it would if I hadn't asked her, so I reach for the rainbow-filled bag and pull out a quill.

"So how badly do you want to use feathers?" I ask.

She smiles and answers, "Honestly, I think they'd be a bit much."

That leads to both of us chuckling together, and I put the feather back into the bag.

"Good," I say. "We agree."

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

On my way to brush my teeth, I pass by my sister's room, and she stops me by asking, "How'd it go with your little fangirl?"

When I back up in front of the doorway, she's slumped on her bed, reading a book. And not a fake book. She's reading, like, a novel, a real book. She must be having her worst breakdown yet.

"Her name's Hiral," I correct her, "and it was fine. It turns out she doesn't have a crush on me anyway."

She lets out a snicker and says dryly, "Yeah, okay."

"She doesn't," I insist. "She told me."

"Wyatt, girls never say what they really want. Unless, they're saying no, in which case listen, but other than that, girls never say what they really want."

"It that why you've emptied two orange juices?" 

That sets her off, and she whips a pillow in my direction, groaning, "Ugh! Get lost, twerp!"

I duck, avoiding the throw by a centimetre, and carry on toward the bathroom, laughing.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

I complete the final stroke of white on a rose petal. "All done."

"It looks good," Walker compliments. 

The rosebuds frame the guitar face, with leaves spreading inward. I blended pinks and whites to make the shading in the flowers. I think it turned out pretty nice. 

"What do you think? Does it depict the serenity of the universe?" I ask with a laugh. 

Walker chuckles along, and as I'm about to get another guitar to start, Jonah shows up through the door, holding little Austen's hand. Instantly, she leaps up in excitement and runs up to Walker.

"Lolly!" she shouts. 

She clings her arms around Walker's leg, squeezing tight. Walker bends over to hug her back.

"Hey, Austen," I say. 

She lets go of her dad and looks up at me. "Hi."

"I thought she'd like seeing the guitars you've been working on," Jonah says. "Also, daycare was over, and you're not home to watch her, so I had to bring her here anyway."

"Amber probably could've babysat," I say. 

"I didn't really try that hard to find a babysitter," Jonah confesses. 

"Did you ask anyone?"

"I was about to, but then I saw an ice cream shop."

Suddenly, a glittery guitar catches Austen's eye as she shouts, "Ooooh!" and scurries over to look at it more closely. 

"I'm almost done here," Walker informs Jonah. "Just finishing up this one."

Jonah steps up to the table to get a view of the ones we have drying on it. "They look amazing. Bowie had a great idea."

"I know," I agree.

A clank of plastic on the ground, grabs our attention, and we all look over to see Austen covered in paint. In front of her, a jar of the liquid lays open, exploded, on the ground.

"Sorry," the girl mumbles.

"Austen," Walker says disappointedly. 

He rushes over and grabs her hand, but retracts when she spreads paints onto his. With a rag, Walker begins wiping down his daughter's limbs and dress. 

"This is why we don't touch things without asking," Walker tells her.

That's when my focus falls behind her, and I notice that the row of decorated guitars now has paint splattered all across the finished designs. 

"Oh, no, the guitars are all ruined," I realize. 

I go over to look at them, wanting to see if anything wasn't hit, but they all have droplets somewhere on them. While I'm examining the instruments, Austen begins to tear up, and it quickly turns to sniffling sobs. 

"Sorry," she whimpers again.

"No, it's okay," I say, kneeling down to her height. 

Yes, I wish she hadn't done this, since now it's going to take at least another few hours to fix, but I'm not so upset that I'm going to let my niece cry. 

"But it's ruined," she sobs, her R sounding like a W. 

"Wait, we can fix this," Jonah says.

"Yeah," I respond. "We'll have to repaint them."

"Yes, but I have an idea," he continues. "This isn't all bad. This is inspiration."

________________________________________ **  
**

**Andreas's POV**

Britain's box of cold McDonald's chicken nuggets sits in the centre of the table, and he and Waleed dig in, enjoying the extras that Britain didn't eat for breakfast during chemistry class. I'm not eating them, partially because I don't trust that Britain didn't get some toxic chemicals on them, but mostly because my stomach feels too weak to hold anything down as I stare at the table across the isle. Jayda talks with Cayenne and Amara, and she either doesn't see me or doesn't want to. She's laughing at their jokes, but her eyes are dim. She doesn't mean it. Like, I know her better than I even know myself. Because I've always wanted to know her. I've always cared.

"Dude," Britain says through a full mouth, "what did you do to her?"

"I don't know," I reply. "She just broke up with me. Said something stupid about college, but I don't fully get it."

"College?" Waleed chimes in. "Who needs that? I'm buying a food truck and travelling around the country to sell tacos to hungry middle schoolers."

"I just want to go to U of S," I say, "but she said how we're not going to last, 'cause we'll be in different places or something? I guess she must be wanting to go somewhere else, but I don't even care. Long distance is fine."

"It sounds to me like you guys broke up over nothing," Britain concludes.

"No, it was something," I counter. "She was upset, so it was something. I just have no clue what. Maybe she'll change her mind."

"There are plenty of girls out there," Britain states.

"I don't want just a girl. I want her," I tell him, my voice way too passionate for a school cafeteria.

"Damn," Britain mumbles, looking down for a second at his chicken nugget. "Well, then this is gonna be harder for you to hear, but I don't think she's changing her mind."

"Why not?" I question, a bit annoyed by his lack of faith.

"'Cause I heard she went out with Luke on Friday."

Jayda? Luke? No. I don't want that picture in my head. What the hell?

"Who said that?" I bark.

"Luke," Britain answers.

"Like, our friend Luke?"

Both Britain and Waleed nod.

My eyes drift onto Jayda again, but the sight now burns like staring at a candle. And I don't blame Luke, because honestly she's amazing. And I don't blame Jayda, because, well, she's allowed to do whatever she wants. She's a free woman now, a free single woman. The person I blame is myself. I don't know what for, but I do.

Then her eyes manage to shift a bit too far, and they link with mine, forming a rope only for her to snap it in an instant, quickly looking to her friends again. I can no longer handle it, and I push myself out of my seat and hurry out of the cafeteria. I don't want to look at her anymore. 


	138. S4 E3.3: Colleges and Collages

**Hazel's POV**

It's only when I see Andreas walking to his car alone after school that it hits me that I haven't seen him and Jayda together, like, at all the past week, and neither of them have talked to me, which isn't exactly strange on its own, since Andreas doesn't actively try to tell me his business, and Jayda has the tendency to read messages then forget to reply to them. 

"Empty seat, huh?" I say as I approach Andreas. "Where's Jayda?"

"Beats me," he grumbles. 

"You sound upset."

"Good, it's coming across."

Andreas tugs open the driver's side door and gets into his car, but I don't go away. Instead, I get into the passenger's seat.

"Wow, I don't think I've ever seen you mad. What's going on?"

Andreas shakes his head, looking down for a moment before he slams his hand on his steering wheel, causing the whole car to rock. Then his head falls back onto the headrest, his eyes red, like he could cry at any moment. 

"She broke up with me," he replies, "gave me no reason, then went on a date with my friend."

I take that in along with a breath and let it out saying, "As much as I'd like to say that doesn't sound like Jayda, I do believe it. Do you have any idea why?"

"She said something about college," he mutters. 

"College," I echo. "Well, aren't you planning on leaving Shadyside?"

"What?" he reacts, sitting up in shock. "No!"

"Well, that's not what she thinks."

"I had pamphlets for other ones, 'cause I just wanted to see them. I don't actually want to go to them. Shit, I don't think I even have the grades for them anyway."

"So she just assumed you were leaving here and dumped you?" I conclude. "Oh my God, that dumbass."

Andreas takes another moment before unclenching his fists and shifting the car into reverse, but I can tell by his jaw that he's still tense. Once we're turning out of the school parking lot, Andreas glances over at me again. 

"Did you even ask if I would drive you home?" he wonders. 

"You're already driving," I respond. "But don't take me home. I have a stop to make first."

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Andreas's jacket hangs on a coat hook by my bedroom door. I almost wore it this morning, but then I remembered I can't. The worn-down elbows and soft lining taunts me, making me question everything once again. But this is for the best. I did this for a purpose. 

All of a sudden, Hazel comes bursting through my door, making me jump back. And she looks furious. Who let her in? Okay, probably my dads. But like, could they not? She slams the door shut, putting herself between me and it, blocking my only exit. 

"You, know, I have to say I'm impressed by how reckless you can be," she begins, sounding like a teacher about to lecture me. "I don't usually get involved in your love life—"

"You always get involved."

"And clearly I need to! Because you can't be trusted to make good decisions on your own!"

She comes closer as she talks, and with every step she takes forward, I take one back. Soon, I end up against the side of my bed, unable to move away anymore. 

"Did you seriously break up with Andreas and then go out with his friend?" 

"No!" I immediately react, but it's a lie. "Okay, yes."

She shakes her head in disappointment. "Please tell me you didn't kiss him."

I hesitate before replying in shame, "I did."

She give me a look of exasperation. "Why?"

"Because I thought it'd make me feel better, but apparently I can't do that without Andreas."

"So you kissed his friend?" she shouts. "Do you not care at all about him?"

"I love him!" I scream. "I love him so much that I'm terrified!" Tears pour down my cheeks, dripping onto my feet. "I'm terrified of how much it would hurt if I let this go on knowing that it's just going to end, and I'm going to lose him! You don't get it! I can't go through that! I had to end it now so that it doesn't completely break me later when he leaves for college!"

"He doesn't want to leave, you dumbass!"

I freeze, and my stomach flips upside down. 

"What?" I crackle. "But Brayden said—"

"Brayden said that?" Hazel cuts me off. "Well, he's gonna have nightmares tonight after I'm done with him."

Her anger has shifted onto Brayden now and not me, but I'm mad at me. If Andreas isn't leaving, then I broke up with him for nothing. Too weak to stand, I drop onto my bed, my arms shaking as they hold me up.

"He doesn't want to go?" I utter. 

"Jayda, he has, like, a 60% average. He couldn't get into those schools even if he wanted to."

"I screwed up."

"No shit."

I bow my face into my hands, mumbling through my palms, "Why do I always do this? I get emotional over the stupidest things, and it makes me do things that mess everything up."

"I'm glad you at least recognize it."

Raising my head to look at my cousin again, I ask, "Hazel, how do I fix this?"

She folds her arms over her chest, answering, "Well, if this were a regular boy, I'd say you can't. Lucky for you, this is a boy who's hopelessly in love with you." 

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

Jonah's idea has me here now watching a bunch of kids painting their own guitars in the middle of Red Rooster Records. Rock music plays from the sound system while the kids swirls their paintbrushes onto their new guitars. Jonah and my dad put up flyers and sent out emails to advertise the free guitar-painting activity for anyone who has a guitar from Red Rooster Records. I still finished my own guitars for selling later, but the children certainly seem excited about this.

"This was a great idea," my Dad says to Jonah, Walker, and me. "I've convinced six parents to put their kids into guitar lessons here."

"I have to admit," I say, "this turned out a lot better than how I pictured it in my head."

"Hey, sometimes I have good ideas," Jonah replies with a grin. 

Suddenly, a kid screams, and we see that a boy across from him has flung paint by accident, splattering his face. When the boy retaliates with an even bigger splash of paint, war breaks out. 

"Here we go," I mutter. 

My dad, Walker, and Jonah rush to calm the fight, working with the parents to try to control the children. Right when I'm about to step in too, Austen comes running up to me with paint in her curly hair. 

"This is a mess," she says.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

My heart races, overpowering the sound of the rustling trees. Halloween decorations light up the street, with pumpkins glowing on almost every doorstep, making my shadow confused as to which direction it should go, resulting in what I imagine a ghost's shadow would look like, a thousand dark rings on the cement. As I step up onto Andreas's porch, the wood creaks under my feet, startling my fragile state of mind. 

I bring my hand up to the doorbell. _I need him to forgive me. I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't. But why should he forgive me? I've been awful to him. I love him so much, and I let that make me selfish when it should make me selfless. I don't deserve someone like him._

I drop my hand back to side without pressing the button. With a heavy breath, I take a step back then spin around and go back down off the porch. _Why should he forgive me?_ I'm about to leave when I hear the door open behind me, and I go paralyzed. 

"Jayda?" comes Andreas's voice. He doesn't sound mad, but he should. I would be if I were in his place. 

I manage to turn around, but seeing him only deepens the pit of guilt in my stomach. 

"Andreas," I utter. 

He doesn't come down to me. He stays three steps above me, crossing his arms. 

I swallow hard and take a step forward, saying, "I, um..."

Unable to finish the sentence, I stop and reach into the pocket of my jean jacket, pulling out a piece of paper. He watches as I unfold it, hands shaking. Then I clear my throat and begin to read what I've written. 

_"I wrote this poem,  
because I need to say  
that I'm sorry I treated you that way._

_"I thought you were going to leave,  
and that thought scared me,  
so I broke up with you to try to protect me._

_"I'm really sorry.  
What I did was stupid  
and this may sound corny,  
but I think we're liked by Cupid._

_"So I know I was dumb,  
but I want to undo,  
because no matter what,  
I can't stop loving you."_

I fold the page back up and put it away, my breath trembling as I wait for a response. Andreas just stares at me for a while, and I consider running away in embarrassment. But then a smile finally cracks his lips.

"You rhymed with 'me' with 'me'?" he says. 

"Yeah," I reply. "I'm really not good at poetry."

He chuckles a bit, letting his eyes crystallize on mine, giving me enough confidence to speak on my own. 

"Andreas, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have broken up with you, and I definitely shouldn't have gone out with Luke, and I'm not even drunk this time, but I guess you could say I'm drunk on love, which although it can't get me a DUI, I think it makes me just as idiotic. I was just so terrified, because I thought you wanted to go to some school out of Shadyside, and the thought of eventually saying goodbye was really screwing me up, and I acted without thinking fully and I really need to stop doing that—"

"You're right," he interrupts. His arms come uncrossed, falling into his jean pockets instead. "You really do need to stop that."

His voice is stern, which takes me a little off guard, only because I've never heard him sound like this before, not when talking to me. 

"Can you forgive me?" I ask.

Rather than give me a straight answer, he just sighs. _That's never a good sign._

"Jayda, I hate this, you know," he states, and nerves take over my entire body. But then he adds, "I hate thinking that we could be over."

He comes down the steps, stopping right in front of me, and my pulse starts racing. I want him back more than anything in the world, and I'd trade anything in the world for that. 

"I was looking at those other schools for fun, but I never wanted to go there," he tells me. "And even if I did, we could still be together, just from a distance."

I guess I never thought of that. The only long-distance relationships I've heard of all ended with one of them ghosting the other. 

"It wouldn't be the same," I respond. 

"You know what else wasn't the same?" he says, closing a little more of the gap between us. "Last year when you finally kissed me outside that bookstore. That changed everything, and I realized that I'd been waiting for that since forever. You think I'd ever want to give that up?"

I'm silent, speechless, and honestly a bit embarrassed.

"I just need you to talk to me when you're scared or sad or angry," he continues. "Instead of doing things on your own, can you let me in? Let me help you, and we can work things out together."

"That sounds really good," I breathe. 

A smile lifts on his face. "Good."

"So do you forgive me?"

"One more thing," he replies. "Since you kissed one of my friends, I get to kiss someone too."

That turns my heart into a shipwreck in an instant, but who am I to tell him he can't?

"I guess I deserve that," I mutter, "so...okay."

Then he grins, puzzling me, until he laughs and takes my waist, pulling me up against him. I stumble forward, and he plants his lips on mine, reviving the twinkling lights behind my ribs.

When his lips break away, I have an epiphany: "Oh, it's me."

"Yeah, it's you," whispers his raspy reply, and then he kisses me again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More questions for you all: (1) Who's your favorite adult character? (2) Who's your favorite Good Hair kid? Why? (3) Which of the kids do you relate to the most? (4) Which do you still not understand? (5) Which do you want to understand more about? (6) Which is your favorite ship, including adult characters too, and why do you like that ship? What is it about them together that you like? On another note, this season will start to reveal new types of representation in characters that we don't already have. Some characteristics may not be stated, depending on the direction of the story, so if you have any guesses on any characters, main or side, don't hesitate to comment. I love to read them. Next episode next week. I'm v excited for it. We're gonna start unpacking some characters. Bye!


	139. S4 E4.1: Wonderland

**Amber's POV**

At the kitchen table, Andi ingests a spoonful of her cereal while I put the milk back in the fridge.

As I close the door, I glance over at my wife, asking, "Why do we have the ketchup in a jar?"

Her eyes go wide in realization. "Oh, that's where I put my red paint."

"Okay, guess we do need ketchup then," I mutter and go over to change that on the shopping list.

Making me drop my pen is the whoosh of the front door pushing open, and I whip around to see my brother and his husband entering in.

"Have you ever heard of a doorbell?" I ask.

"Says you," TJ responds.

"Hey," Andi greets amidst our sibling bickering.

"Hi," Cyrus reflects and goes over to sit with her at the table.

But TJ comes over to me at the island, saying. "Amber, did you check your email?"

"Why?" I question.

"Just check it."

I find my phone on the counter and open up to my home screen while TJ peeks over my arm.

"Three hundred forty-four unread emails?" he gasps.

"Shut up."

I open up my email and look at the top one. The second I start reading, my jaw drops.

"Oh my god," I say.

"What is it?" Andi asks.

"Our uncle died," I answer.

Her face automatically changes to pity. "That's awful."

I end up snorting a laugh at that. "No, he was a homophobic dick."

"Wait," Andi realizes with a gasp. "Was he the guy with the sign across the street during our wedding?"

Cyrus nods beside her. "Yup, and ours too."

"But that's not it," I add. "Apparently he left something for us in his will."

"What did he leave?" Andi questions.

"I don't know," I answer.

TJ picks up my response, explaining, "Our cousin who sent the email has it right now."

I look down at the message once more, pondering it for another second before raising my attention onto my brother.

"So do you want to get it?" I ask him.

"I don't know," he replies. "I wanted to talk to your first."

"Do you have any idea what it might be?" Andi wonders.

I have none, so I take my best guess: "Money for conversion therapy?"

"He cut us off as soon as he found out we were gay," TJ explains further. "He hasn't spoken to us in decades. It can't be anything good."

"Probably," I agree.

"So we're not gonna accept it?" TJ checks.

I give my wife a glance, searching for an answer in her, even though I know this is my decision to make. Andi doesn't say anything anyway, just holds my gaze curiously. Then I look at my brother. He's waiting for me to choose for us. Why is that always my job as the older sister? Should I accept the gift from our dead uncle, granted that it's likely going to bring back some pretty horrible memories, or should I write it off and let it be? Would my curiosity kill me if I did that?

I let out a huff and reply, "I can't make these kind of the decisions before making my coffee."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

The theatre lights sparkle the stage, illuminating Linny and the other actors as they sing "[All in the Golden Afternoon](https://youtu.be/jbpBdmXiceM)" from _Alice in Wonderland_ , Grant's winter musical. Linny plays a flower, although you wouldn't know since she's currently not in costume. Those are heavy I hear, and the petals fall in their eyes if not positioned perfectly.

Kelsey sits beside me in the audience seats, silently rehearsing her expressions for her role as a playing card. I haven't gotten sucked into acting yet, and I remain a part of the prop team, but there isn't much for me to do at this point so close to opening night, so I mostly just judge the scenes while watching the actors. Linny's singing voice rises above the rest on stage, being much higher than them, creating a striking harmony. When the song's complete, Miss Lou claps happily.

"Wonderful!" she exclaims. "That's getting much better. But Violet, you're still a bit pitchy. Focus on controlling your tone, and practice at home. Other than that, that's a wrap for this evening. Pack up, and we'll see you all on Thursday."

The group on stage disperses, and Linny comes down the steps and drops into the chair next to me, her face showing her tiredness.

"You sounded good," Kelsey tells her, to which Linny tilts her head and replies flatly, "I'm a flower."

"You're a freshman," I remind her. "You weren't going to get the lead."

"I suppose," she accepts.

"Linny Rose," comes Miss Lou prancing over to us with a grin, "marvelous work today!"

Linny smiles in response. "Thank you."

Next, Miss Lou looks at me. "Brayden, I have another request for a set. It's a bit last-minute, I know, but I think this scene would just be so much better with some giant flowers around the stage."

"Giant flowers?" I repeat.

"Yes, precisely. I can't wait to see them."

She doesn't wait for me to agree before spinning around and heading backstage.

"She always perceives my hesitance as acceptance," I state. "Now I'm in a conundrum. The rest of the prop and set team has already said they're going to be too busy studying for exams to even come to rehearsal, and I'm hopeless with any art that isn't direct tracing."

"Well, I am in art class," Linny speaks up, "so I could probably come up with something."

"That would be terrific," I tell her.

"Why don't we ask Hazel to help?" Kelsey suggests. "Didn't she draw, like, some Van Gogh shit all over her locker in whiteboard markers?"

At some point in the semester, Hazel got bored and designed a whole impressionist landscape on her locker door. Initially, I feared she would get in trouble, since I think that's vandalism, but apparently the teachers don't care enough, unless it's open house week, at which point even a sticker on a wall is illegal. But that's not until February, so Hazel has some time to wash it off before then.

"Good idea," I say. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind. You could ask her to help."

That's directed toward Linny, and when she recognizes that I'm looking at her and not Kelsey, her voice raises in pitch, and her eyebrows go up.

"You want me to ask her?" she says.

"Or one of us," I respond. "Whoever sees her first tomorrow."

"Oh, okay," Linny says, letting out a breath of what appears to be relief. "Sounds like a plan." A smile glitters on her face as she stands up from her chair. "I'll start sketching some ideas."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

Hazel stands out in the crowded hallway because of the large barrette of blue pearls that clips the front strands of her hair around the back. It shines like finding a coin underwater. As far as I know, neither Kelsey nor Linny have spoken to her yet, so I take the opportunity to do so.

"Hazel, could I ask you a favour?"

She closes her locker and turns to face me. "Most likely."

"Would you be willing to make giant flowers for an _Alice in Wonderland_ set in the play?"

By her expression, I imagine that's not what she expected me to ask.

"Are you trying to rope me into theatre club too?" she questions.

"No, I wouldn't put you through that. You see, I would make them myself, expect that I'm quite frankly terrible at art."

She folds her arms over her chest and leans back on the locker next to hers, a smart choice considering her pale yellow dress that looks like it would stain easy.

"So you want me to make giant flowers by myself?"

"Not by yourself," I correct her. "Linny is going to help you."

With that, she lets out a sigh, dropping her hands back to her sides. "Fine."

"Thank you! I'll make sure you get your name in the programme."

"No problem," she responds.

________________________________________

**Cara's POV**

I push open the door to my house and step aside, making way for my guest to come inside. Leila enters with eyes wide, gazing around in astonishment.

"Woah," she breathes. "You have a dazzling house, Mrs. Driscoll."

My mom comes in behind her, replying, "Thank you, Leila."

Mom slides off her shoes next to Leila's and mine then hangs her coat up. That reminds me of my own manners and Leila's cherry red jacket. I outstretch my arm, and direct Leila to lay her coat across it. She gives me a smile, which I return as I place her jacket with my mom's.

"Do you two want anything to eat?" Mom asks us.

"No, thanks," I answer. "We're gonna go to my room."

I grab Leila's hand and pull her toward the stairs, but my mom stops me there.

"Okay, what about Leila?" she wonders.

"I'm already stuffed full," Leila says, "but many thanks to you."

With the questioning complete, I carry on, my feet beating the steps like a drumroll as I ascend, leading Leila along behind me. This will be my first sleepover ever, and I want to be clever with how I spend my time. I have to get through all the cliche activities before the end of the night.

When we get to my room, Leila looks around with the same wonder as she did one floor down. Much of my space has changed in recent days. My bedspread doesn't have zebras printed on it anymore. Now it's a navy galaxy of stars. They come to life under the neon lights that stretch in a strand around the tops of my walls, feeling the ceiling, lining each vertex perfectly. My bookcase is overflowing with novels now that I've become quite keen on reading. Among the books are figures of characters from movies and stories, one of course being Captain Jack Sparrow. Beyond my shelf, my open closet shows clothing, either wildly colourful or pure black, no in medium, and between the regular garments, costumes consume the space, with hats and wigs peaking out into the room.

Leila drops her backpack on the carpet with a thunk, and I set mine down next to hers. _Clunk._

"Your room is positively electrifying," she gushes.

As she wanders closer to my closet, she notices the baby blue wig draping over a hook, and she pauses.

"Is that a _Spella the Witch_ wig?"

"You watch that?" I ask in surprise.

"Yes!" She starts to reach for it then freezes. "May I?"

I give her a nod, and she grabs the wig and puts it on, running her fingers joyfully through the long locks. I dig into the back of my closet to find the short, blonde wig for Spella's supporting character that I own. Once I retrieve it, I twist my hair back and tuck it under the wig before turning around to give Leila a show. She gasps in delight and claps, jumping up and down like a fairy sprite still learning to fly.

"Hexal," she says to me playfully, "do you know where I left my wand?"

Letting out a laugh to match hers, I run over to my dresser, returning with a replica wand that I made out of a stick and some paint. It's not much, but it makes Leila gawk, and she takes the wand with a smile.

"Show me your best spells," I request.

Leila raises the wand, ready to do her best.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Splotches of paint speckle the ceiling of the art room, too high for anyone to get down, and too unimportant for anyone to try. Half-finished canvasses scatter the space on easels, creating a maze of shadows on the floor. With the school day over, the room is empty, except for Linny who sits on a stool at one of the tables, drawing in a sketchbook. She has her blonde hair braided over one shoulder, tied with a glittery, red ribbon like one you'd find on a Christmas present.

"Hey."

My greeting startles Linny, causing her to drop her pencil which rolls off the table and onto the ground. Her face flushes red as she climbs down off her stool and picks up the writing tool.

"Hi," she says as she stands back up.

"So do you know how you want to make the flowers?" I ask.

"Um, probably just, like, cardboard and paint."

I nod but lean my elbows on the table, proposing an alternative. "What if we went a little further and did paper mache?"

"Are we allowed to use the supplies for that?"

I head toward the cabinets to start pulling out the glue while answering, "Oh, yeah. The art teacher loves me."

"I'm pretty sure all she knows about me is my name," Linny responds.

I gather a huge tube of white glue and a stack of newspapers then bring it over to Linny. She flinches as the pile hits the tabletop.

"Well, at least it's a lovely name," I say.

She smiles at that and lifts her eyebrows, asking, "Linny Rose Leuring?"

"Yeah. Sounds kind of like a wizard name. Mine's pretty normal. It's Hazel Amelia Kippen-Mack."

"I know," she utters, but then she sits up, her face going rose-toned again as she explains, "Uh, I think Brayden mentioned it once." Appearing flustered, she reaches for a news page, saying, "Shall we start?"


	140. S4 E4.2: Wonderland

**TJ's POV**

Amber and I have had the whole day to consider what to do about our dead uncle's gift, but even now after we've both finished work, we can't come to a decision. Andi and Cyrus look exhausted at this point. Cyrus lays his head on the arm rest of the couch, while Andi is curled up in one of the chairs in her living room. Amber and I are both in ready positions, more awake than before, heads too jumbled with opinions.

"Why can't we just ask her what it is?" I say.

Amber lets out an exasperated sigh, so Cyrus answers my question for her.

"Your cousin, Ivy, said the box was clearly labelled for only you two to open it," Cyrus reminds me, and I realize I already knew that.

"Oh, so it's probably gonna be a trap that goes off when we open it," I say.

Amber furrows her brows. "What kind of trap would get through the mail?"

"One that launches or sprays something?" I guess.

"Like what?" she retorts.

"Holy water?"

Another sigh from my sister.

"Guys, you're gay, not vampires," Andi chimes in, frustrated with the conversation.

She stands up but does so too fast, making her teeter on her feet, and Amber reaches for her hand to steady her. Once she's regained her balance, Andi releases a breath.

"I'm gonna get some water," she says then heads for the kitchen.

"TJ, if you want my input," Cyrus speaks up, "I think it might be nice to see what your uncle left for you two."

"He literally hated us," I counter. "He didn't even know where we lived to send us his gift directly."

"I don't know," Amber responds.

"What don't you know?" I question.

She shrugs. "It could be money, in which case, I want it."

"Or maybe he had a change of heart during the years you didn't speak," Cyrus suggests.

"If he had a change of heart, why didn't he talk to us?" Amber challenges.

"Did either of you give him your contact information?" Cyrus asks.

We're both silent, answering the question loud and clear.

"Cool," Andi says as she comes back with a glass of water. "So we're going to Ivy's house?"

Amber and I share a look for another minute, seeing if either of us has enough motivation to deny.

Eventually, I let out a breath and stand up, saying, "I'll drive."

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Wire spirals from the floor up to above our heads where it splits off into the skeleton of five petals, which Linny and I are currently working on covering. Glue drips on the ground as we transfer soaked newspaper onto the wire frame. We've been focused on the sculpting for quite a while, and Linny hasn't said much, so I try to get her talking by asking questions.

"So what role are you in the play?"

"Um, I'm a flower," she replies.

"Wait." I pause what I'm doing. "Are we making a costume right now?"

"No," Linny assures me. "These are set pieces. I'm a singing flower. I couldn't get the lead, but Mrs. Lou liked my singing voice, so she cast me as that."

"You sing?" I knew she did theatre, but I didn't realize she sung. She's just so quiet, I guess, that the possibility never occurred to me.

My excitement makes her freeze, eyes wide as she responds, "Uh..."

"Don't worry. I'm not gonna make you sing for me."

She lets out a breath of relief and continues layering the newspaper onto the sculpture.

"Unless you want to," I add. "I would love to hear."

She flickers her eyes around nervously as she wipes her gluey hands on a paper towel and turns toward me, saying, "Um...okay."

She only sings four lines, a part of _Alice in Wonderland_ 's "[All in the Golden Afternoon](https://youtu.be/jbpBdmXiceM)," but it's enough to make my jaw physically drop:

_"Little bread-and-butterflies kiss the tulips,_   
_and the sun is like a toy balloon._   
_There are get-up-in-the-morning glories_   
_in the golden afternoon."_

Her voice is like a fallen flower floating down a summer stream, or like vanilla beans in cream. It's light and fluffy like cotton candy, hitting each pitch without struggle. I understand why Mrs. Lou likes her singing voice. It's absolutely beautiful. Linny waits nervously for my reaction, which comes as soon as I shake myself out of my stunned state.

"You're really good."

She blushes at the compliment but shakes her head. "I'm not."

"Are you saying I don't know good singing?"

Her eyes grow in worry as she looks at me.

"Relax. I'm just teasing you," I tell her.

Linny lets out a little laugh, saying, "Right."

She picks up another strand of newspaper and dips it in glue.

"Sorry," she suddenly adds. "I'm not the best at understanding social cues."

"It's okay," I respond with a light chuckle. "I just spend my time overanalyzing social cues."

"As in, like, the psychology stuff you always talk about?"

"It's kind of my passion," I explain.

"That's cool. You probably know how to read people well."

"I like to think so. What's your passion? Or is it musical theatre?"

"Um, I know a lot about the history of theatre," Linny answers, "but people don't usually like it when I talk about that."

I give her a gentle smile and say, "I wouldn't mind."

Although she smiles back, her eyes fall away from mine while she shakes her head.

I accept the rejection and think of a new question. "Okay. What's your favorite food?"

"Um, am I allowed to say butterscotch candies?"

"Oh my god, yes!" I gasp. "I love anything butterscotch."

The intense excitement of my reaction makes both of us laugh a bit, until she eventually says, "Um, there's this one place that has this butterscotch soda—"

"Mel's Diner?" I cut her off.

"You've been there?"

"Of course! I just went there yesterday with Sarah."

Linny hesitates a second before responding, "That's nice."

Without looking, I reach for another piece of paper right at the same time as Linny does, resulting in my hand bumping into hers. I back up and apologize, but Linny looks like a deer in headlights. I guess our accidental collision caught her off guard.

"You okay?" I check.

"What?" She snaps out of her paralyzed state. "Yes, yeah, uh-huh."

She quickly grabs the paper she didn't get on her first try and lays it on the wires of the flower.

"Do you think we'll be able to paint these flowers tonight?" Linny wonders.

"Probably not, since we'll have to wait for them to dry," I reply.

"Right, of course."

She goes for another piece of paper, but this time her hand misses the tray. Rather than fix her aim, she retrieves her arm and folds both her hands together in front of her.

"I'm gonna go get my water bottle from my locker," she suddenly states then zips out of the room.

________________________________________

**Cara's POV**

The lamp on my bedside table glows orange like a ball of fireflies, not so bright as the big ceiling light that we turned off because it was hurting our eyes, but enough to let me see Leila as she lies on the air mattress on the floor at my bedside. She's changed into unicorn-patterned pyjamas, but she's still wearing the Spella wig. The long waves of hair pour over her pillow while she stares up at me, waiting for my next question of the evening.

"Okay," I say, "truth or dare?"

"I'm too tired to get up," she replies, "so truth."

I take a second to think of a good question, looking around my room for inspiration. Nothing inspires me, but I find something in my head instead.

"Would your rather jump off a bridge or shave your head?"

"Hmm." Leila takes a moment to consider her answer. "Is there water under the bridge?"

"Yes."

"Would you jump with me?"

I give her a grin. "Definitely."

"Then jump off a bridge."

Her reasoning sends us both giggling, but being honest, I think it's pretty flawless. I'm sure I would always be far more excited about anything if she were invited.

"Truth or dare?" Leila asks.

"Dare."

"I dare you to tell the truth."

"You can't do that!" I argue.

"Why not?"

"Because it's against the rules."

"I thought you thought rules were dumb."

Using my own beliefs against me. I can't fight with that.

"Fine," I huff. "What do you want to know?"

Leila's smile widens as she asks the cliche question, "Do you have a crush on anyone?"

I let my head roll on my pillow to look up at the ceiling as I respond, "Everyone in our grade is either stupid or annoying or both."

"Well, you're not wrong," Leila agrees softly.

I tilt my eyes back onto her to add, "Except you."

That makes her smile for a little while, while her sight explores the shapes in the stucco on my ceiling.

"Okay, I'll give you a dare then," she tells me. "How much are you willing to do?"

"I have no limits. Lay it on me."

Leila lets out a little laugh and thinks of a dare.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Cara and Leila's laughter seeps through the floor, down to where Marty and I are watching television on the living room couch. It's refreshing, honestly, to be hearing that from Cara.

"I'm glad they've found a friend," Marty says as if reading my mind.

"Yeah," I agree. "I think this is the first sleepover that's taken place in this house that isn't with Linny and Kelsey. When was the last time Cara even had a friend over?"

"Man, I don't remember. Maybe two years ago?"

Two years. For Cara at their age, that was probably forever ago.

"Isn't it nice how things change?" I say.

Marty smiles and reaches out, sliding his fingers in between mine to lock our hands together.

"Yeah," he says. "But the best things stay the same."

"That was sweet," I tell him.

"Thanks. I try," he replies with a grin.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Jonah comes to join me on the couch, carrying a bowl of Snapea Crisps. After sitting down, he looks back toward the kitchen.

"Austen!" he calls.

Our little girl comes toddling up to the couch, responding, "Yeah."

She holds her sippy cup of apple juice tight in her hands until she reaches the sofa, at which point she places it in my lap while she climbs up to sit between me and Jonah. Then she grabs the cup back and hugs it tight, excited for movie night. I pull my blanket across her legs as well to share the warmth.

"So what movie do you want to watch?" I ask her.

Without a second of hesitation, she shouts, " _Shrek_!"

"I like _Shrek_ ," Jonah says with a smile.

"We've watched that the past five weeks," I respond. "How about we try a new movie?"

 _Shrek_ is cool and all, but I'm starting to be able to quote whole scenes off by memory, and that's concerning for me.

Austen ignores the question, instead reaching for Jonah's bowl, saying, "Peas please!"

Jonah tilts the bowl to let her take a handful of the pea snacks, which she munches on one by one. While she's eating, I scroll through the kids' movie options.

"How about this movie about dinosaurs?" I ask.

Austen furrows her brows. " _Shrek_?"

"Austen, it's time to expand your interests," I say.

Confused, she looks over at Jonah instead, saying, "Poppy?"

"Hey, I'm on your side, kid," Jonah replies.


	141. S4 E4.3: Wonderland

**Brayden's POV**

Earlier today, Kelsey, Linny, and I agreed to go to the Spoon once Linny and Hazel are done in the art room. When Kelsey and I step through the doorway, we see that Linny and Hazel are putting away their materials, and three giant flower shapes takeover the floor, their glue translucent, half-dry.

"Hey, the janitor says he's gonna kick us out soon," Kelsey says, "so are you almost done?"

"Yeah," Linny replies. "We're just cleaning up."

My cousin ducks under a flower petal on her way to wash a yogurt container lid at the sink. There are three blossoms: one resembling a daisy, one a rose, and the last a generic one that could probably turn out to be a violet once painted.

"Those look spectacular," I compliment.

"Thanks," Linny responds.

"We still need to paint them," Hazel says. Then she looks at Linny, asking, "Are you okay with meeting again tomorrow?"

"Yes," Linny answers eagerly.

A deep blush clouds my friend's face as she hurries to finish putting away the leftover rings of wire.

"Perfect," Hazel responds.

"Thank you again for helping with this," I tell Hazel.

"No problem. It was pretty fun, especially with Linny here."

Hazel gives Linny a glance before opening the cabinet doors to put the glue away, and Linny smiles, looking down, trying to hide it. After she picks up her sketchbook and pencil case, she makes her way over to Kelsey and me by the door, the blush in her smiley cheeks still holding strong.

Kelsey narrows her eyes and questions, "Are you overheating or something?"

Kelsye might as well have just tossed red paint at Linny's face.

The girl gets flustered as she replies, "What? I'm fine. I'm gonna finish cleaning up."

Linny retreats, dropping her books back on the table, now going over to adjust a jar of paintbrushes that I'm pretty sure she didn't even use. Kelsey and I both exchange a curious glance but don't verbalize our thoughts.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

I climb out of TJ's car, my heels clacking on the concrete driveway of my cousin's house. It's a big house in a suburban neighbourhood. Pointed roof, white exterior. It's identical to every other house on the street, the only difference being the mailbox colour, which is a lime green. Their front yard is home to several plants, which are all bare at this time of year and sprinkled in snow. 

"When did they get a garden gnome?" TJ wonders as he walks behind me up to the front door.

I ignore the question, ringing the doorbell. Cyrus takes TJ's hand, both to keep it warm and to comfort him, since he can tell that my brother is nervous. I'm not as worried as him, since I'm honestly already expecting the gift to be something stupid, but Andi places her hand on my shoulder anyway.

TJ doesn't even wait a full five seconds before saying, "Well, damn. We'll try again another time."

Immediately after TJ leaves the porch, Ivy opens the door, and Cyrus pulls TJ back up the stairs.

"Oh, look," Cyrus says, "we just needed to be patient."

Cyrus flashes TJ a smile, and TJ lets out a sigh.

"Oh, you actually came," Ivy says in surprise. "I wasn't expecting that."

"That sounds promising," I mutter dryly.

Ivy steps aside, saying, "Come on in. It's just in the living room."

The four of us all go in and find our seats around the coffee table, on which a brown cardboard box sits, one corner crumpled from being delivered. It's a cube, about the size of a watermelon, so it could really be containing anything.

"Ivy," I say, "on a scale of one to ten, how likely it is that this is a good thing?"

"Well, my dad didn't agree with you, but he wasn't mean...all the time...so maybe five?"

I guess that's as good at it will get. I look at TJ and release a deep breath.

"Here it goes," I say.

He joins me in peeling off the tape from the box and unfolding the flaps. Inside, a brown, leather-bound book with gold detailing sits. I lift it out and bring it to my lap, and when I read the title, I nearly laugh. In the bottom corner, my uncle's name is scrawled in pen.

I let out a sigh. "It's his Bible."

Out drones a collective groan, my brother being the loudest.

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Walker continues to scroll through the movie choices, and Austen sounds like a broken record.

"How about this?" Walker asks.

"No."

"This?"

"No."

" _Toy Story_?"

"Yes."

Walker smiles saying triumphantly, "Finally!"

But then Austen squints harder at the television and changes her mind. "No."

Walker sighs.

"Walker," I say, "just put on _Shrek_."

Tired of fighting, Walker caves. "Fine, we'll watch _Shrek_."

But Austen shakes her head. "No."

"What?" I respond.

"Boring," Austen says.

I gasp. "How dare you insult _Shrek_. It won an Oscar."

Austen strengthens her glare and says again, "No."

"Okay, what about this?" Walker asks, returning to the scrolling through movie covers.

Austen shakes her head. Walker moves to the next one, and Austen shakes her head again. Again. And again.

Finally, Austen shouts, "Stop!"

" _TinkerBell_?" Walker asks, reading the movie title.

"Hey, I hear it's good," I comment.

"Okay, cool," Walker agrees, just happy we're finally watching something, and presses play.

The instant the film begins, Austen holds up the now-empty snack bowl in his face, saying, "Lolly."

Walker pauses the show and stands up with a breath. "I'll refill it."

________________________________________

**Cara's POV**

Starlight peeks through the night, and the lamp by my bed is switched off, letting the moon perfume the room in blue. Leila lies in her sleeping bag, covers pulled up to her chin. My head dangles over the edge of my bed frame, unconcerned with the blood rushing to my brain.

"Do you like campfires?" I wonder.

"I love campfires," Leila utters. "I love the smell of the smoke, because it reminds me of summer."

"I love summer," I breathe.

"Me too."

"I love winter too."

"But winter is cold," Leila counters.

"But snow is cool. It sparkles and covers everything."

"It wipes away all the colour."

"Things can be pretty without colour," I state.

"Hmmm." Leila ponders over that.

"My brother's colourblind," I add, "and he thinks things are pretty. He still sees most colours, but that's not important."

"I suppose some things are pretty without colour," Leila admits. "Like the moon."

We both end up glancing out my window, trying to catch the glow through the glass. When I find it, I smile. Silence falls over us like pixie dust as we bathe in the glittering darkness. After a while, Leila breaks the quiet.

"I've never had a friend like you before," she confesses.

I hear that but don't react. I'm not good with sappiness, and that was like draining a whole maple tree. But that doesn't mean I don't like it, or that I don't feel the same. My last friends all strayed away, because they thought I was strange. Leila likes that I'm strange, and that's kind of a nice change. After about a minute, I figure I should say something, but I don't know what.

"You like campfires?" I ask again.

"Yeah," Leila confirms. She doesn't sound disappointed. I don't think she expected me to result to her earlier statement.

"Sometimes I plug in my toaster and toast marshmallows over that, like it's a fire," I go on.

"That's creative."

"Do you want to do that?" I ask.

She gives me a smile but responds, "I can't eat marshmallows."

"Why not?"

"They're not halal."

"Oh. Well, we have vegan marshmallows," I offer.

"They make vegan marshmallows?"

I nod, although I'm probably barely visible from this angle in the dark. I wait a moment for Leila to form her decision, then she stands up.

"Will your parents be mad that we're awake?" she wonders.

I sit up and push myself off my bed, the fuzzy carpet encompassing my feet.

"They're asleep," I reply. "How can they be mad?"

Leila grins at that, not risking laughing at this time of night. I walk ahead of her and grab the doorknob, but before turning it, I pause then look back at Leila.

"I like being friends with you," I confess.

Although showing this emotion is out of my comfort zone, Leila looks happy.

"You too," she says.

After waiting for one more second, I finally open the door and step aside for her to go first.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

"Woah," I say as I enter the art room, and Linny whirls around to face me. "New dress?"

The bubblegum pink garment cloaks her with long bell sleeves and an A-line skirt. It's simple, but the shape fits her figure nicely like a perfectly traced drawing. As I get closer to the table where she's standing, I notice that she's also wearing makeup. Just some mascara and lip gloss, but she doesn't usually wear any makeup.

She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear as she looks down at her dress, replying, "Oh. Yeah. Come to think of it, it probably wasn't the smartest idea to wear this, considering we're painting today."

At that, I set my backpack on the table and unzip it. From inside, I take out the paint-stained smock I had folded for me to wear. Then I hold it out, and Linny accepts it hesitantly.

"What about _your_ clothes?" she asks.

"It's fine," I assure her. "Makes me more artsy having paint splatters on my skirt anyway."

She smiles and slips her arms into each sleeve of the smock. It goes down a little longer than her dress, covering it entirely, and buttoning all down the front. The sleeves are a tad big, so she rolls them up one fold. Soon, I remember what else I wanted to give her, and I reach into my backpack again for the two butterscotch soda pop bottles I brought. 

"I also got us something else," I say.

Her smile widens as I hand her one of the bottles.

"Oh, wow," she says. "You didn't have to."

I shrug. "Well, we're friends, so I did."

She nods and untwists the cap of her pop then takes a sip.

"I got the paints out," she tells me as she sits the bottle back on the table.

"Perfect. I'll get the brushes."

"No need," Linny responds as she walks around the table to where a jar of brushes sits that I hadn't noticed before. "I did that too."

She returns with two brushes and hands one to me. As I grasp the handle, our fingers come into contact for a moment before she lets go, and familiar red spreads over Linny's cheeks like a blossoming cherry tree.

"Thanks," I say.

Linny nods, pink remaining in her skin as she walks away again to choose the first colour of paint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very excited for the next 3 episodes. Some fun is gonna occur. Thank you all for reading. Have a marvellous day.


	142. S4 E5.1: Chronicles of Kinsington

**Brayden's POV**

The narrow streets of Kinsington lie just below Shadyside's downtown. Shops clog every corner of my sight, all connected by weathered shingles on a low, one-story roof. Brightly painted signs decorate them all, and windows reveal goods of all kind. The roads are set up so that they box in collections of shops, which have X-shaped walkways extending between them where people lounge at tables despite the cold, travel across to stores, or some who perform for money. The smell of bread wafts from a bakery door as I pass by with my friends, Linny, kelsey, Fatima, Darius, Aimée, and Hazel all around me.

"I hate how commercial Christmas has become," Kelsey spouts. "Everyone looks forward to boxing week more than the actual holiday. Why can't Christmas just go back to its roots?"

"Then it'd be called Yule," Aimée replies.

Fatima comes up beside me, asking, "Brayden, are you sure you know where you're going?"

"Yes. I remember coming to this bookstore before."

"How before?" she questions.

"August. They have a huge sale this week—80% off historical fiction—and I need to stock up. I've run out of good books to read."

"I gave you a book," Hazel mentions. "Have you read that already?"

"I said _good_ books."

My cousin looks offended, but I'm more focused on the street signs, which are hand-painted in cursive.

"It should be right here," I say, pointing to the left.

I lead my group rounding the corner, but right where the bookstore should be, a store for maternity clothing exists instead.

Darius steps forward, saying to me, "Anything you wanna tell us, man?"

I give him a scowl and respond, annoyed, "It should've been here."

"Maybe it went out of business," Linny proposes.

"It's in business. It's just...not here."

Interrupting my befuddlement, Aimée swings her hands together, saying, "Cool, well, I saw a crystal shop a bit back, so, uh, I'ma—"

Right as she tries to step away, Fatima grabs her arm and pulls her back to the group, and Aimée sighs.

"How about we all split up and look for the book store," Fatima suggests.

"Won't work," Darius shuts down. "The Scooby-Doo gang has five. We're Seven"

"You know," Aimée chimes in, "I bet it's behind the crystal shop."

She steps back again, this time too fast for Fatima to stop her, but then Kelsey shouts, "Wait, I wanna look at crystals!" and the two girls go scurrying off down the sidewalk together.

"My apologies for Aimée," Fatima says. "She's unreliable."

"It's fine," I reply and get back to the matter at hand, pointing left. "I think it could be this way."

"How sure are you of that?" Fatima asks.

"Not very," I admit.

"Wonderful," she breathes but follows me nonetheless.

**Marty's POV**

The car beeps as Buffy locks it, and we travel onto the Kinsington sidewalk with Andreas and Cara dragging on behind us.

"Marty, I like your siblings and all," Buffy says, "but I wish they didn't want to have lunch in a neighbourhood with paid parking only."

"This place has amazing food," I justify. "Once you taste it, you'll forget about he parking."

Buffy accepts that but gets frustrated with something else, glancing back at our kids.

"Andreas, Cara, can you walk faster please?"

Although Cara jogs ahead a bit, Andreas shoves his hands in his pockets, keeping the same pace.

"So tell me why Brayden gets to skip this to hang out with his friends, but I can't," Andreas complains.

"Because his friends are nice," Buffy reasons, "and won't purposefully try to get arrested."

"Only Britain does that," Andreas argues. "And Waleed and I both tell him to save his fights with cops for when we aren't around."

"I wanna fight cops!" Cara chirps. "Screw the police!"

Buffy puts her hand on Cara's shoulder, guiding them on in front of her, saying, "Okay, let's save that conversation for at home."

Cara rolls their eyes and pulls open the door to the cafe. Buffy and I step aside for Andreas to go ahead too, but as I'm about to enter, Buffy's eyes suddenly go wide, and she grabs my hand, keeping me still for an extra second.

"Hey, Marty, have you told them about Cara's pronouns?"

The realization smacks me like a brick. "I knew I forgot something."

Buffy nods, clearly concerned, but we can't do anything about it now. Our kids are already inside, walking up to the table where my sister, Jordyn, her husband, Dale, and their daughter, Laine, are seated. The front strands of Jordyn's curly, brunette hair are tied back like open curtains. She has the same eyes as me, and hair colour, but that's about all we share. Dale's completely different. Red hair, square face, scruffy beard. Laine shares her dad's hair, but she has her mom's strong nose, with pale patches spotting her skin like giant raindrops due to her vitiligo.

"Hi!" Jordyn says.

"Hi, Jordyn," I respond. "Hi Dale, Laine. I thought Chloe was coming too."

Chloe is our other sister. We have even more siblings, but lots of them don't live in Shadyside anymore, so we only see them when they happen to come back on road trips or vacations, which is rarely.

"She is," Jordyn answers. She got stalled in traffic. But take a seat, all of you."

All four of us choose chairs to claim while Jordyn continues to talk.

"Buffy, looking incredible. Andreas, my, aren't you getting big. Tenth grade?"

"Twelfth," Andreas corrects her.

"And Cara," Jordyn says, "you are becoming a beautiful young woman, aren't you?"

Immediately, Cara stands up from their chair after being seated for less than a second.

"I'm out," they say and start toward the exit. "I'll be next door."

They push the glass door open, pivot, and saunter toward the neighbouring business. Buffy and I share a look of worry, meanwhile Jordyn looks completely taken aback.

"Give us a second," I tell my sister.

Then I get up and move far enough away from the table that my sister's family won't hear me and Buffy talking.

Once Buffy's followed me over, I say, "Do I just tell her or...?"

"Did Cara say if they want her to know?" Buffy counters. "'Cause we should ask them first."

Suddenly, Andreas passes by, on his way toward the door, saying, "Don't worry about it. I'll talk to them."

Buffy and I watch as he leaves the cafe to find his sibling.

**Jayda's POV**

Cayenne's thousand bracelets jingle as she leans her elbows on the front counter of the second-had clothing store where I now work. It's currently empty, even though we have sales on pretty much everything. But I'm kinda relieved, since I don't know how to work the sale buttons on the till yet. Cayenne's in charge of finishing my training, which is supposed to be on-the-job today, but honestly I don't remember anything from my earlier training anyway, so she's pretty much starting from scratch.

"First day. How you feeling?" Cayenne asks.

"Tired."

"Welcome to having a job."

"Sounds awful," I groan.

Cayenne chuckles at that and grabs a handful of shirts on hangers that need to get hooked onto racks. She looks at the sizes before finding the spot for each of them.

"You're eighteen. Have you really never had a job before?" she questions.

"I used to give my dads pedicures and charge them for it as a kid," I reply.

"Nice, well, this is a little different," Cayenne says. "You see, when a customer comes in here, they won't be your dads, so you'll actually need to help them."

"This is a clothing store. Do people really need help?"

"Oh, honey, you'd be surprised."

A minute later, the bell chimes, letting me know that someone has entered the store. Feeling my nerves rise, I suck in a deep breath and head over to greet my first customer, but when I see who it is, my amount of caring drops way down.

"Dads? What are you doing here?"

Cayenne swivels around to see them, mumbling, "You're kidding."

"We're not your dads," Daddy answers with a smile on his face. "We're just regular customers."

I put my hand on my hip, shifting my weight to that side as I give him an annoyed look.

"I tried to stop him," Papa then says.

Daddy looks at him swiftly, hissing, "This was your idea."

"Ugh!" I groan. "You're checking up on me."

"Well, it's your first day," Daddy replies.

"You don't trust me," I go on.

"Only partially," Papa counters.

"Well, I'm fine," I state. "Now please leave and let me do my job."

At that instant, Cayenne comes stepping in front of me, saying, Hey, hey, they're customers."

"No, they're not," I deny.

Cayenne turns her eyes to my dads and asks, "You gonna buy anything?"

Papa scans the store. "You only have women's clothes?"

Cayenne shrugs. "They're a man's clothes if a man wears them."

Although Papa looks like he's still contemplating, Daddy's sold, and he grabs Papa's arm, saying, "TJ, you're getting a crop top."

He begins pulling Papa forward eagerly.

"Ew! I don't wanna see that," I complain.

"It's not for you!" Daddy shouts back.

"Ugh!"

Cayenne laughs at my annoyance.

**Andreas's POV**

It turns out the place next door to the cafe is a spa. The walls are painted sea blue, and a miniature fountain trickles on the coffee table to my right as I enter in. The front desk appears to be made up of stones along the front, but it's probably just a fake decorative thing. I glance around for my sibling, but they're nowhere to be seen.

"Do you have an appointment?" the lady at the counter, Carly, according to her name tag, asks.

"No, um, I have a sibling," I respond. "About this tall. Turquoise hair."

The description seems to ring a bell, but when she speaks I think it must be the wrong bell. "Oh, yes, Cai."

"Uh—"

I'm confused, but I'm pretty sure turquoise-haired children aren't that common, so I don't correct her. She waves for me to follow her, and she leads me around a corner into a slightly dimmer waiting room. A table of free beverages and snacks sits on one end, and at the other on a glossy, log-shaped bench sits my sibling.

"Thanks," I tell the lady, and she leaves.

My sibling has a cup of brown liquid in one hand and a tiny cookie in the other, which they keep eating while I sit down next to them.

"Cai?" I ask.

"I was trying something out," they respond.

"And? How do you feel?"

"Not a fan," they mutter.

I nod, and Cara holds out their handful of miniature treats.

"Want a cookie?" they ask. "They're tiny."

"No, thanks."

They shrug and shove another one in their mouth.

"So Mom and Dad are wondering if you want Aunt Jordyn and Uncle Dale to know your pronouns," I explain.

They shrug and take a sip of their drink.

"What is that?" I wonder.

"Iced tea. Want some?"

"Nah, tea is bad enough warm."

They finish the cup and place it down on the bench.

I let out a breath and get back to the important topic. "Well, you can't stay here."

"Actually, Carly told me I can stay as long as I want."

I raise my eyebrows at them, and they let out a large exhale.

"I don't know," they grumble. "I wish people didn't assume I was a girl."

"Yeah, I know."

"You don't know," they counter. "You're a cishet man. The quarter black is the only thing keeping you from being the definition of privilege."

"You're right," I agree.

"Of course, I am."

They slump back against the log bench back, stuffing another cookie in their mouth. After about half a minute, they flick their eyes to me, losing their hardness.

"Can you tell them for me?" they ask.

I smile. "For sure."

With that settled, Cara gets up and turns to face me.

"How much pocket space do you have?" they ask.

"Uh, a bit," I answer, confused.

They nod and head over to the snack table where they begin stuffing their own pockets with baked goods.

"Well, come on," they order. "Help me out."


	143. S4 E5.2: Chronicles of Kinsington

**Hazel's POV**

Brayden and Fatima lead our cluster as we walk down the pathway. Beside me, Linny's attention flicks around at all the shops, eventually getting caught on the same thing that makes Darius stop and watch.

"Check out the dancers," he says.

The rest of us pause to see the two break-dancers twirling around on their hands, bopping to the beat of a girl rapping over a microphone next to them. They've drawn in a crowd with their performance, and people occasionally step forward to drop cash into the fedora on the ground.

Darius glances over at Fatima who puts her hands on her hips and sighs, knowing where this is going.

"Should I?" he asks.

"Dance your heart out," she replies.

With a jolly grin, Darius jogs into the eye of the tornado, joining in with the free-styling dancers. Both of them begin cheering Darius on as my friend starts popping and locking. The crowd hoots and claps, and I hear Linny let out a laugh beside while as she watches Darius in amazement. As my eyes shift down over her shape, I notice she's snapping her fingers at her side, subtly taking part in the roaring applause.

After about a minute or so, Linny brings her hands up to her chest and takes a step back, asking, "Can we keep going?"

Brayden glances over and immediately complies. "Yes, of course."

Then my cousin looks at Darius again, but Darius is far too hooked on the music to get his attention.

"I'll get him," Fatima says.

While she and Brayden step toward the dancing, Linny looks drops her head downward and begins retreating away from the scene. Not wanting her to be alone, I catch up, following her around the corner where the music is blocked substantially by the brick buildings. She seems to loosen, letting her hands dangle free again and her chin rise. As she does, her face lights up, and I look ahead to see why. Renaissance Ensembles, surprisingly not the most niche store I've seen in Kinsington—that was the Build-Your-Own Fountain Pen Emporium—has a single mannequin in their window, and it's dressed in a ruby red gown with gold accents and bell sleeves that puff at the elbows. Like a paper clip to a magnet, Linny drifts toward the dress, oblivious to the other shoppers whom she's cutting off as she crosses the path.

"Oh, wow," she breathes.

"It's pretty," I comment.

"It's exquisite," she responds. "It looks like what Juliet would wear."

Linny's eyes practically sparkle as she stares at the dress, or maybe that's just the reflection of the gown's gems in her irises. Maybe it's both.

"You should try it on," I say.

She immediately shakes her head at that. "No, I couldn't."

"You'd look stunning."

The compliment makes her blush, and she looks over at me, but the moment her eyes touch mine, she turns away again, saying, "Anyway...where are Brayden, Fatima, and Darius?"

Realizing we left them around the corner, I make my way back to the place where the dancers should be, and Linny trails close behind. But when I get over there, I still see the dancers, but Darius is not among them, and neither are my other two friends.

"No idea," I mutter, answering Linny's question.

**Marty's POV**

Buffy and I sit across the table from my sister and her family, all of us trying to ignore the awkwardness that came from my lack of explanation for Cara's disappearance. Jordyn does her best at filling the air by talking about Laine who clearly just wants to focus on her phone like any bored-to-death fifteen-year-old.

"So Laine was on the honour roll last semester," Jordyn says.

"Man, we didn't bring our honour roll kid," I respond with a chuckle.

Jordyn is about to laugh at that when her face wipes blank, and she and Dale both look behind me. Buffy and I spin around to see Andreas and Cara reentering the cafe. Cara smiles nervously as they sit down in the chair beside their brother at our table.

"So," Andreas speaks while Cara remains silent, "Cara uses they/them pronouns now."

Jordyn takes a second to process that then says, "Oh, oh, my mistake. I shouldn't have assumed."

Her apology makes Cara smile, and they respond, "It's okay."

"I guess this is why we need to catch up more often, so that I can be kept up to date on these things," Jordyn adds with a little laugh.

"That's great," Buffy says, leaning forward, "but can we go somewhere with free parking next time?"

Before Jordyn can answer, Walker's voice suddenly says, "Oh, hey!"

I look over to see him and Jonah walking away from the counter with drinks in hand while Austen holds Jonah's index finger with her little hand.

"Hi, guys," Buffy says. "Getting coffee?"

"Yeah," Jonah replies. "Cyrus told us Jayda has a job around here now, so we are about to go see how she's doing."

Jayda works now? That's news to us.

"Where does she work?" Buffy asks.

**Jayda's POV**

Cayenne and I place sunglasses on the glasses rack to fill in the empty spaces, and she keeps glancing over to check that I'm doing it right.

"Jayda, those are upside down," she states.

I look at the glasses and let out an annoyed huff, flipping them right side up on the rack.

"I don't wear sunglasses. How am I supposed to know this stuff?" I complain.

In my defence, they look basically the same both ways.

All of a sudden, the door chimes.

"Your first real customer," Cayenne says with a smile.

I shove the glasses I'm holding into Cayenne's hands before rushing over to the door, but once again, I'm let down by the people coming in.

"Oh my God. More?" I groan.

Auntie Amber and Auntie Andi both smile at me innocently.

"You know them too?" Cayenne says in surprise.

"Cyrus told us we should stop by," Auntie Amber says.

"Does he think I'm gonna die on my first day?" I whine.

As if my aunts weren't enough, the door opens again, this time letting in Uncle Jonah, Uncle Walker, and Austen.

Uncle Jonah looks at my aunts with a smile and says, "Oh, what's up?"

**Hazel's POV**

"Have any of them responded?" I ask.

Linny checks her phone again before putting it back in the pocket of her purple coat. "No, not yet."

Linny and I carry on walking down the street, not going anywhere in particular. We've been waiting for one of our friends to tell us where they've gone to, but none of them have done so yet.

"So what do you want to get before boxing week ends?" I ask, trying to kill the quiet.

"Oh, I don't know. I haven't thought of that. I don't really buy things."

"Nothing?"

She shrugs. I guess I just spend a lot of money on random things like clothes and unnecessarily elaborate pens, so thinking that Linny wants nothing new is weird to me. I suppose it is more environmentally sustainable, though, not partaking in consumerism.

All of a sudden, Linny's attention is captured by a building across the pathway. It's a theatre, like an actual theatre, with a colourful billboard displaying the musicals showing this week. The sign sprouts up from the lightbulb-lined triangular peak outward in the building's front.

"Hey, you said you like plays, right?"

"Some of them," Linny replies, studying the sign. "Oh, but Newsies! Yes, I love that one."

She dashes across the path, skidding to a stop before the theatre, and I slow down beside her. She doesn't go in, but she admires the deep maroon paint outlining the windows, and the burgundy curtains through the glass. The doors remain closed. There probably aren't any plays happening until the evening.

"I didn't know there was a theatre here," I mention.

"They show various plays and musicals here by different theatre groups in Shadyside," Linny explains. "I come here a lot actually. It was founded in 2013 by a lady who couldn't make it on broadway, but she loved theatre too much, so she started this."

"Have you ever performed in it?"

Linny shakes her head at that. "No. I'm not near good enough."

I shrug, responding, "I would argue otherwise. I saw the winter musical. You were good."

"I was a flower," she states with a pitiful smile.

"Hey, flowers are lovely. People wouldn't give them to their lovers if they weren't."

It takes Linny a moment to piece together my compliment, but she smiles when she does, blushing as I've come to expect from her. I've noticed that she blushes really easily, like, even at the smallest things. It's honestly kind of adorable.

Behind Linny, three figures emerge from the crowd, becoming the faces of Brayden, Fatima, and Darius.

"There you guys are!" I shout.

Brayden comes up to meet Linny and me with a perplexed expression. "Were you lost?"

"We were looking for you," Linny responds.

"Oh, I assumed you went off to do other things."

"Have you found that bookstore?" Linny asks.

"Well, we've only not been down one more street," Fatima explains, "so if it's not there, we're never finding the bookstore."

"Down this way," Brayden directs.

He begins leading us ahead, but a glimpse of dirty blonde under a neon orange toque makes me do a double take. Out from the Italian restaurant beside the theatre comes a face I know like my own.

"Wait!" I tell my friends.

Fatima steps up to me, saying, "Is that Sarah?"

A smile sprouts from my mouth as I reply, "Yeah."

I break away from my friends and run up to my girlfriend.

"Sarah!" I call.

She stops walking and looks over at me, her eyes going wide, spooked by my appearance, but then she melts into a smile. I initially plan to hug her, but as I get up to her, she doesn't extend her arms, so I drop mine and instead just smile.

"Hey, what's up?" she asks.

"Boxing week shopping," I answer. "You were having lunch, I assume?"

She glances back at the restaurant and responds, "Oh, yeah. I was with a friend."

Naturally, I look past her to see who, since I probably know them, but unless her friend is the forty year-old lady with the tiger-print jacket and cherry red snow boots, the friend isn't around.

"Which one?" I ask.

"Oh, Danielle," she answers, "but she already left."

"Oh. Well, uh, do you want to join us?"

"Um..." Sarah thinks about that, taking a second to check her phone. "Sure, I have time."

She tucks her phone into her puffy jacket pocket and wraps her gloved-hand around mine.


	144. S4 E5.3: Chronicles of Kinsington

**Jayda's POV**

"So where's the manager?" I question.

"Lunch break," Cayenne answers.

"Hasn't it been, like, a few hours?"

"Yup."

_Ding._

"I got it," Cayenne tells me, but she only takes one step toward the door before turning around, saying, "Oh, it's the husband."

As I spot Andreas's curly hair over the clothing racks, I perk up and wind around the garments to get over to him. His arms encompass me as I wrap mine around his torso in a hug. Once I let him go, he begins talking.

"How's the new job?"

"Well, she hasn't helped a single real customer yet," Cayenne answers for me.

"But our whole family decided to come bother me," I add on.

"They're just excited. I am too. You got a job, and you've almost worked a full shift without being fired," Andreas teases.

I roll my eyes while he laughs.

"Cute," Cayenne interrupts, "so are you gonna buy anything, or...?"

"Uh..." Andreas goes over to the counter where the till is and picks up a tiny flower enamel pin from a sale jar. "This."

"I've got it!" I tell Cayenne as I rush around the counter.

"You remember how to ring it in?" she checks.

I stare down at the cash register, attempting to recall which button to press. My first try makes the machine beep loudly.

"Shit," I mumble. "Not that. Um..."

I try another, and the price appears on the screen.

Proud, I turn to my boyfriend, saying, "That'll be one dollar. Oh, wait, I'll give you my discount." I type a few more buttons. "Eighty cents."

Andreas smiles and passes the coins over to me, letting his hang linger in mine for an extra second. I click some more squares to make the till open, then I put the money in the register. After the transaction is complete, I spin to look at Cayenne, squealing in excitement.

"I made my first sale!"

"Technically, with all your errors in typing it in, you made your first three sales," she responds, "but I'll fix those later."

"And this is for you," Andreas says.

He leans over the counter and reaches for the collar of my jean jacket. There, he pins the little pink rose onto the denim.

"Thank you," I say, and he mirrors my smile.

Eventually, Cayenne cuts our gaze short, saying, "Hey, Andreas, since you're here, wanna help stock some shelves?"

"Tempting, but I have to get back to my family," he answers. "We're having lunch with my aunt and uncle."

"Fun," I respond. "Or awful, depending on how you feel about your aunts and uncle. Either way, Tell them I say hi."

"Will do."

He grins then turns around to leave the store. I stare at the doorway for an extra moment when he's gone, until the smack of Cayenne dropping two pairs of clunky boots on the counter scares me enough to grab my attention.

"Shelves," she orders.

**Hazel's POV**

Strings of colourful lanterns hang across the ceiling of the bookstore, stealing the attention away from the exposed wooden beams above. It's fairly small but packed with sky high bookcases placed so tightly next to each other that it would really stress out someone with claustrophobia. Along the sides of the several windows, potted flowers hang, some sunflowers, some peonies, all flavouring the smell of fresh books with a hint of springtime in December.

Fatima is off in the fantasy novels, while Darius is probably looking at comedy books. Farther down the same row as me are Brayden and Linny browsing the historical fiction novels. Meanwhile, Sarah and I are peering through the poorly-sorted mess of this shelf which appears to be psychology mixed with religion, and some fiction.

"You know," Sarah says, "I don't come into bookstores that much, but I might come back here."

"Because of the plants?" I guess.

She shrugs with a smile, and I laugh, reaffirming our interlocked hands that swings between us.

As I bring my sight away from her—albeit with some difficulty, since I always like looking at her grey sky eyes, her fair speckled freckles, and the sharp crook of her nose—I centre my interest on the psychology books in front of me.

"Don't you have, like, all of these?" Sarah wonders.

"Not this one."

I select one from the shelf and look it over. It's written by an author I'm familiar with. Her previous work has been pretty good.

"Then put it back," Sarah says.

I look at her curiously. "Why?"

"'Cause your birthday's only in two and a half months."

I let out a chuckle and oblige, putting the book back on the shelf.

**Brayden's POV**

I pull a burgundy book from the shelf and look it over. From reading the summary, it appears to be set in rural Canada in the 19th century. I'm not usually enchanted by 19th-century Canadian fiction, but for 80% off, potentially I am.

"Linny, you read this one, right?" I say. "Is it good?"

When she doesn't answer, I look up and see that she's off in her own world, not listening to me but instead staring at Hazel and Sarah who laugh as they reconnect hands farther down the aisle.

"How are you?" I ask her, deciding my initial question is not at important.

Linny breaks from her trance and spins to face me. "Pardon? Oh, I'm..." Failing to finish her sentence, she's struck by a sudden, clearly forced interest in my reading selection. "Which book are you looking at?"

I raise it up for her to see, letting her get away with avoiding the question, since I've already inferred the answer anyway.

"Yes, that one's good for plot," she tells me. "The main character is really dynamic and goes through and incredible change in perspective. However, I do warn that its depiction of Métis and indigenous people is fairly stereotypical. Like, I was mildly offended on Kelsey's behalf. But I suppose you can't expect much better from a book written in the 1940s."

"Hmm." I tuck the book back in its spot on the shelf. "I'll pass on that one."

**Hazel's POV**

"I found your book," I say as I hold up the book called _A Puck and a Board_ with a book cover of a skateboard and a hockey stick.

"Oh my God," Sarah reacts, which makes me laugh.

She takes the book and looks at it more closely.

"Oh, and it's gay too," she discovers. "I expect you to remember this for my birthday."

I giggle as she puts it back on the shelf, smiling. The second the book slides back into place, a chirping sounds, and we both swirl to see a coo-coo clock chiming for the hour.

"Oh, shit. It's 3:00 already?" Sarah says. "I have to go"

"Aww," I pout. "Are you free tomorrow?"

"I have to babysit my cousins," Sarah answers with a frown.

"Text me when you're free next."

"For sure," she replies.

She steps in and gives me a kiss on the cheek before heading out of the bookstore. As she exits, Aimée and Kelsey enter in and come over to me.

"When did Sarah show up?" Aimée wonders, watching Sarah as she walks past the window outside.

"She was having lunch with a friend, and I happened to bump into her," I explain. "What did you guys get?"

Kelsey holds up a cream-coloured canvas shopping bag and says, "Lots of crystals. Also I'm pretty sure we saw your cousin in the mannequin display of a shop we passed by."

"Oh, yeah, Jayda works there now," I recall.

Aimée nods, but Kelsey's attention goes to Brayden who's currently attempting to carry a pile of at least ten books in one hand while still browsing with the other. 

"Oh, goodness, Brayden," Kelsey says as she as Aimée go over to assist him.

With them away, I return my eyes to the books ahead. There isn't much left to view here anymore, so I walk around the aisle into a new area. Over here, I notice a very tiny, very niche section of books on classic playwrights and other more general theatrical history books. While I'm looking at those, the girl who comes to mind also manifests at my side. She pulls a blonde hair away from her eyes and smiles at me.

"Hey," she says shyly.

"Hey," I respond.

"Where did Sarah go?"

"Uh, she had other stuff she had to do."

"Oh, I see."

"I think I found your section," I then say, turning the topic away from my absent girlfriend.

Linny gazes ahead at the writings on the shelf.

"I have a few of these," she says.

I pick one at random and pull it from the bookcase. It's a collection of Voltaire's plays.

"I got that book for my fifteenth birthday in October," Linny says.

"Voltaire wrote plays?"

"Yes, he wrote over fifty," she replies. "His first was _Œdipe_. Others are _Mahomet_ , _Nanine_ , _La princesse de Navarre_... I love that one. Jean-Philippe Rameau composed beautiful songs for it. It was huge. There were approximately one hundred and eighty extras." Out of the blue, her passionate ramble comes to a halt, and she says, "Sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I've been told I talk too much," she states.

"No, you don't," I assure her. "I think it's really interesting, actually."

Surprised by that, she smiles.

A second later, Brayden appears at the end of the row, a mountain of books in his arms.

"Alright, I'm ready to go," he announces.

Linny and I both laugh as we watch our friend waddle his way up to the cash register with half the bookstore in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed is episode. Please feel free to comment your thoughts or theories. Next episode will be kinda fun. Love you all. Have a wonderful week.


	145. S4 E6.1: Oh, Great Groundhog Day

**Wyatt's POV**

Hiral stuffs the last tulip into the hand-painted vase in the centre of the table on my back deck. Napkins sit tied with ribbon beside glass plates that she brought from her place. She's got a leaf green bow in her hair today, probably to honour the spring, even though it's not actually here yet. It sort of goes with her dark green wool coat and yellow dress underneath. Then again, I don't know how clothes work together. That's my sister's thing.

"And we are now ready for the guests to arrive," Hiral announces.

"Flowers?" I respond. "But we're outside. Don't we have enough?"

She tilts her head and puts her hands on her hips. "It's February. look around. Do you see any flowers?"

I give the garden a glance. "Huh, I guess not."

The gate creaks as Uncle Marty, Auntie Buffy, and all the kids, minus the one who's already here, come through it. Hiral practically jumps off the deck to go greet them.

"Guests already!" she squeaks.

Hiral drops into a curtsey in front of my family, and they watch her, surprised by her poise.

"Welcome," she says.

"This is Uncle Marty, Auntie Buffy, Brayden, and Cara," I tell my friend.

"I'm so happy to have you here," Hiral says. "I hope you'll enjoy the festivities."

"Yes, I bet we will," Auntie Buffy replies. "We've never been to a Groundhog Day ceremony before."

"Well, that's because it's a family tradition," Hiral explains, "for only my family."

"Why aren't you with your family then?" Uncle Marty asks.

"Oh, my parents are out of town for work, and my older sisters think they're too old for this, but to set an age on excitement is such a sad thing to do."

My aunt smiles at that, amused by my friend. "Well, thank you for including us in this."

"Thank _you_."

As Uncle Marty steps out from behind Auntie Buffy, Declan becomes visible, and Hiral instantly gasps.

"You have a baby!" she squeals. "He's so cute!"

"This is Declan," Uncle Marty says, bringing my baby cousin closer to Hiral for her to see.

"Hello, Declan," Hiral says.

"Hi," he replies shyly.

That makes Hiral squeal even louder, and after a second of fawning, she recollects herself and back up.

"Okay, back to business," she says. "Um, you can set up your lawn chairs over here." She points to the open grass of my yard.

My family members go do as instructed, and once they're out of the way, the next guests arrive. Walker and Jonah come up to us with Austen toddling between them, holding both their hands.

I start to introduce them. "Hiral, this is—"

"Oh my gosh!" she squeaks. "Another baby!"

She runs up to Austen, kneeling down in front of her, and Austen stares skeptically at my friend.

"I'm Hiral. What's your name? Can you talk?"

"I talk," Austen retorts. "I two, not one."

"Oh my gosh, you're adorable. Do you want to come help me?"

"Hmmm," Austen contemplates. "Okay."

She transfers her hands from her dads to Hiral's, and Hiral walks the little girl up the deck.

**Cyrus's POV**

In the kitchen, TJ and I chop up the ingredients for the pasta salad we're making, but the laughing and giggling of our daughter and her boyfriend overpowers the clunks of the knife on the cutting board. They're helping by making the vegan worms and dirt dessert—a pudding, Oreo crumb, and gummy worm cup—but after a while, I'm positive they can't be doing that. There's too much laughing.

I turn around from the back counter to look over at them at the island. "Are you guys even working?"

I glance right as Andreas is busy whispering something in Jayda's ear. He backs up as they both spin around to see me.

"Yup, totally," Jayda answers.

They return facing the other direction, and Jayda starts placing the gummy worms in each cup, but a moment later, Andreas whispers something again, making Jayda giggle.

"Andreas," she says with a nudge between laughs, "work."

Instead, he grins and plants a kiss on her ear, oblivious to the fact that I'm watching. Jayda giggles again, and I let out a breath, turning back to focus on the salad with TJ.

"It's like listening to a Hallmark rom-com looping the fluffiest part," I mutter.

"I wonder if your parents said the same thing about us?" TJ responds.

"We weren't this...much."

I glance back at the teens again, seeing them nudging each other's arms and laughing.

"I remember different," TJ challenges.

"Last year, you would've been so irritated by this," I bring up.

"Yeah, well, it saves us grocery money and orange juice if she's with him."

Another burst of laughter much louder than the rest makes me whip around again, this time to find Andreas with his arms around my daughter's waist like a seatbelt, and Jayda feeding him a gummy worm while giggling.

"Okay, if you're not going to help, can you please at least not eat the gummy worms?" I request.

Jayda rolls her eyes. "It's one gummy worm."

"We asked you to make the worms and dirt."

"We are!"

"That's not how it appears."

"Oh my God," she groans. "Relax! We're having some fun. It's not our fault you two aren't as cute as us."

That statement hits me like a canoe to the face. "What?"

My daughter rolls her eyes once more then grabs Andreas's hand and starts to leave, saying, "We're done, by the way."

The two of them head toward the stairs, but I'm still stuck on what she said.

"Huh, I guess they were working," TJ says.

"They think they're cuter than us?"

"Cyrus," TJ says, placing his hands on my shoulders, "it's fine."

"Do you agree?" I ask.

He shakes his head firmly. "Definitely not. Now let's finish this pasta salad."

I frown, still bothered, but respond, "Okay."

**Andi's POV**

My parents and my wife stand with me on the sidewalk in front of TJ and Cyrus's house. My mom pulls her scarf snugger around her neck, trying to block out the wind chill, which my dad seems completely unbothered by. Amber's somewhere in the middle, her gloved hands tucked in the pockets of her pink jacket.

"Did she mention when she'd get here?" Mom questions.

"Yes, and that's why I asked you where she is," I retort.

Then my mom points down the street. "Wait, I think that's her."

Cece emerges from her car in her royal blue coat and square sunglasses.

"Hi," she says as she approaches us with a smile.

"Where have you been?" I ask.

"I'm sorry. I had to deal with something before coming here."

"What?"

"I was deciding who gets the boat." She says it so nonchalantly, as if that's a normal thing she does.

My mom and I both share a glance, confused.

"What boat?" Mom asks.

"Okay, I never told you guys," Cece begins, "but a few years ago, I bought a boat."

"You bought a boat?" I echo in shock.

"Yes. Anyway, I realized that I really don't need it anymore, since I'm not even supposed to be driving still with my current eyesight, so I'm giving it to one of you."

Mom and I share rising excitement at the prospect of that, but then Mom pauses and asks curiously, "Wait, which one of us?"

Cece gives us both a pat on our shoulders and smiles innocently as she answers, "That's what you two get to decide."


	146. S4 E6.2: Oh, Great Groundhog Day

**Wyatt's POV**

Everyone has their chairs in a semicircle in the backyard, facing Hiral who stands in the centre.

"Okay, thank you all for attending! To begin our Groundhog Day, we have Groundhog Day charades! I've divided you into three teams: the Driscolls, the Mack and Amber, and the Kippens and Becks."

"What team are you on?" I ask her.

"I'm the moderator," she replies. "I don't have a team."

"Aw poop," I huff. "I thought I'd have an advantage."

"You don't need me on your team," she says. "You'll do great. Also, you're up first."

She comes over and grabs my hands, pulling me out of my lawn chair and into the circle.

"Choose something related to spring and Groundhog day, and start acting it out," she instructs.

She steps off to the side to watch, and I think of the first thing that comes into my head. With the objective in mind, I stand up straight, planting my feet sturdy on the grass, then extend one hand making a shape with my fingers like a gun. It doesn't even take a full second for my sister to recognize the stance and shout the answer.

"Terminator!"

"Yes!" I cheer.

"Wyatt!" Hiral shouts. "That's not spring-related! Start again!"

I sigh and think of something else.

**TJ's POV**

Wyatt sticks his arms out at an angle downward then points to one of the firs in the yard.

"Tree!" Cara shouts.

"Yup."

"Perfect," Hiral says with a smile. "Bex is up next."

Bex swaps spots with Wyatt, and Wyatt takes his seat beside where Hiral stands. While Bex sarts acting out her object, my mind is still mulling over my earlier concern, and I find myself looking over at where Jayda and Andreas are sitting, my daughter playing subconsciously with Andreas's fingers.

Noticing my stare, TJ leans over and asks, "What's on your mind?"

"How are we not as cute as them?" I whisper.

"We are," TJ insists.

"We definitely are," I try to agree, but another glance at my daughter's romance makes me question it again. "But when did we lose that pure, young-spirited silliness that they have?"

"Don't listen to Jayda," TJ tells me. "She doesn't know us the way we know us. She's our daughter. Of course she's not gonna think we're cute. We purposely don't be like that"—he nods in her direction—"because that would be weird."

"Yeah," I mumble.

"Yeah?" he checks, seeing my uncertainty.

"Yeah," I say again, sounding no more certain than before."

"Daisy!" Walker chirps.

"Wonderful!" Hiral cheers. "Switch! Cara, you're up."

**Andi's POV**

Mom plops down back into her chair next to mine, and Cara takes the spotlight.

"So I've been thinking about the boat," I start, looking over at my mom.

She replies with a smile, "So have I."

"You know, since you're older, and you've basically lived your life, it only makes sense that I get the boat, since I have a daughter and more opportunities to make the most of it."

Her grin turns devious as she responds, "Or...since I'm older, I get it, and you can have it when I die."

I furrow my brows in frustration, but she keeps her smug look.

"Frog!" Wyatt yells.

"That's it!" Cara confirms.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Finished with charades and cold from the weather, the family's gathered inside now, spread about TJ and Cyrus's main floor, eating the food they made for us. I sit at the island with Marty, while TJ and Cyrus stand across from us. With the hand not holding Declan on my lap, I dig my spoon into the cup of pudding and cookie crumble, scooping up the gummy worm first.

"You made these?" I say. "They're so creative."

"Hiral said they're a Groundhog Day necessity," Cyrus replies.

"Jayda and Andreas helped with them," TJ adds.

At the mention of our son, Marty looks around and realizes he's not in sight. "Where are they anyway?"

All of a sudden, the couple comes giggling down the stairs, hands latched, not afraid to bump into each other as the land on the main floor.

"Why are they always up there?" Marty questions.

"I've learned it's best just to assume they play Uno," TJ replies.

Interrupting our conversation, our other child comes up, grabbing our attention with a sharp, "Mom, Dad, can I talk to you quickly?"

"Sure," I answer. "What about?"

TJ and Cyrus step away to give us some privacy, but Cara's not fully satisfied yet. They eye Declan on my lap, pondering his presence for a minute before stealing him out of my arms and passing him off to Cyrus before I can even react.

"Watch this for a minute, would you?" they say.

Cyrus, although a tad perplexed, takes my baby as Declan is stuffed in his arms. Then Cara turns back to face me and Marty.

"How would you feel if I wanted to change my name?" they ask.

"Oh, yeah, uh, that would be okay," I respond, my head still a little jumbled from having Declan grabbed from my hands.

"But can you make it start with a C still?" Marty adds in. "We kind of have a thing going."

I'm about to throw Marty a glare, but then Cara speaks up, saying, "I was actually thinking of Cade."

"That's a nice name," I tell them.

They smile and respond, "Thanks. I'm not completely sure yet."

"Well, you don't have to be sure yet," Marty states. "Just tell us what you want us to call you as you figure it out, okay?"

They nod, thinking about that. "Thanks."

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

Hiral's got everyone moved to the basement. There isn't enough space on the couches for everyone, so some of the kids sit on the carpet. Andreas is lying up against the wall with jayda lying against him. Cara's on their sixth worms and dirt cup now. And I've reserved a place for Hiral next to me on the couch, but right now she's standing in front of the group.

"I hope you're all enjoying the treats," she says. "I didn't make them, but my heart still went into each and every one. Now for the day's feature film."

She comes over to me, and I pass her the remote. She clicks play, and the movie intro begins, getting an immediate reaction from my sister.

"Is this _Night at the Museum_?" she questions. "That's not a Groundhog Day movie."

"It's tradition," Hiral snaps back.

All of a sudden, the screen flickers, and the sound buzzes. Hiral presses pause and play again, but the screen freezes and won't melt again.

"Ugh! Wyatt!" she complains.

"Yeah, it does this sometimes," I reply.

Daddy leans forward, looking worried. "How long has that been happening?"

"A couple of years."

"And you didn't tell us?"

I shrug and get up to help Hiral fix the TV.

**Andi's POV**

While Wyatt and Hiral are smacking the television, Cece turns toward me and my mom.

"So have you decided who gets the boat?" she asks. "I want to get it off my hands before I have to pay for the insurance fee again."

I flick my eyes onto my mom who looks right back. Our stares stay hard for a good minute, wondering when one of us will crack.

"So who's gonna cave first?" Mom says.

"It's not gonna be me," I respond.

"Andi," Amber whispers, "we really don't need a boat."

"It's a free boat," I state.

"And you don't even like boats," she reminds me. "You get seasick."

"Not true. I like canoes."

"Oh," Cece says with a chuckle, "this isn't a canoe. It's a yacht."

"A yacht?" My dad repeats in wonder. "I could write sea shanties on the sea."

"We're in the midwest," Cece states.

"I could write sea shanties on a lake," Dad adjusts.

"Andi," Amber says again, "what would we do with a boat?"

"Okay, fine," I huff and look at my mom. "You can have it."

But my offer makes her frown. "Now I feel bad for pressuring you. You have it."

"I already said you could have it," I counter.

That's when Cara thumps down on the couch cushion next to Cece, saying, "I like boats."

Cece looks back at my nibling and says without hesitation, "It's all yours, kid."

Cara smiles and leaves, pleased with the outcome, but my mom and I just stare at Cece in shock. 

"What?" Cece says. "Neither of you wanted it."


	147. S4 E6.3: Oh, Great Groundhog Day

**Jayda's POV**

During the time watching the movie, the sun managed to reach its height and make outside, like, not totally unbearable, so Hiral forced us outside again to hang out while eating more food and drinking sodapops. Andreas and I stand, him with Dr. Pepper and me with cream soda, listening—well, half-listening—to his brother drone on about something to do with Groundhog Day and how it was invented or whatever. Suddenly he stops talking and just looks at us, and I just blink, not sure what he wants.

"Sorry, what?" Andreas asks.

Brayden lets out a sigh, but before he can repeat whatever he said, a sky blue skirt enters the yard circling Hazel. She brushes her bangs away from her eyes—she needs to get them cut again—and walks slowly toward the crowd of people, but it seems I'm the only one who notices her. And she doesn't look right. I can't say exactly what, but she just looks...I don't know. She's got worry wrinkles on her forehead and one hand rubbing her other. There's something off. Confused, I break away from Brayden and Andreas and go over to her. But then Brayden catches up with the same surprise to see her.

"Hey," Hazel says, pushing a smile.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a date with Sarah?" Brayden asks.

"Uh, yeah, but, uh, the plan kinda fell through. She had something else come up. Family thing, I guess."

"You guess?" I echo.

"No, yeah, no, uh, her mom can be pretty controlling. Anyway, what's going on here?"

I'm not buying her put-together persona. That was way too many stutters to be the truth. I don't know. Maybe I'm reading too much into this. Just because I never tell the truth, that doesn't mean everyone's a liar.

"Uh, we just finished a movie," Brayden answers, "and Hiral's going to make a speech of some sort. There's food inside if you want it."

"Awesome," Hazel responds.

With one last smile, she heads for the house.

**Cara's POV**

Finally, Hazel's here. I've been wanting to talk to her all day, but I only found out she wasn't coming when I got here, but I guess she actually was coming, because she's here now. I don't know how, but I don't question it. Seeing Hazel go inside, I slide through the door behind her and meet her in the kitchen. After selecting a cup of worms and dirt, she twirls around and spots me waiting for her.

"Hazel, are you busy?"

Mid-bite, she shakes her head. "What's up?"

I climb up to sit down on one of the island stools, and Hazel continues eating her pudding.

"How did you choose your name?" I ask.

"Um..." She doesn't have an answer prepared, so she has to think about that. "Well, I saw a doll in a store, and its tag said its name was Hazel, which I liked, so I started using it."

"It was that easy?"

"Well, I was four, so my standards weren't that high. Are you thinking of changing your name?"

"I guess so," I mumble. "I'm not sure. I think it would help."

"Help you?"

"Sort of. Mostly other people. My name's pretty girly right now. People always get my pronouns wrong when they hear it. If I had a more androgynous name, that might help them."

"So this is for the other people, not you," she concludes.

I shrug. "I guess.

She nods and swallows another scoop of cookies and pudding.

"You know it's not your job to help other people," she then says. "They shouldn't assume in the first place."

"But they do."

"Yeah, they do," she says with a frown. "But unfortunately people assume no matter what. It's _your_ name, not theirs. If you want to change it to make it easier, you can absolutely do that, but you don't have to. Or you can change it then change it back. Whatever you want to do."

"I don't know," I mumble.

She waits another minute, watching me think about it.

"I like my name," I eventually confess.

"Then keep it," she says.

"What if I change your mind?"

"Then change it. I know a guy who went through twelve different names before finding the right one."

"Doesn't that get confusing for people?"

"It's not his job to babysit people who can't remember a name," she responds.

I let that roll through my mind for a moment. I like my name, at least I do right now. I guess I don't really need to know everything yet anyway.

"Thanks, Hazel."

She finishes another scoop of pudding and says, "No problem."

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

This is the most interested everyone's been so far. We all stand in a full circle, closing around Hiral who has her eyes closed in the centre of the lawn, reciting her final speech for the Groundhog Day ceremony.

She has her chin to the sky as she belts out in her high voice, "Oh great groundhog! Please come up to the surface! Bring us spring! Restore life to our Earth!"

Jayda has her arms folded as she shifts over to me to whisper, "Wyatt, your friend's kind of weird."

My smile widens as I respond, "Yeah, she's pretty cool."

"Everybody hold hands!" she orders.

Nobody dares testify, and hands link. Hiral inhales a deep breath and closes her eyes again.

"May the trees blossom and the flowers bloom! May the sun shine and the snow turn to rain on today, this wonderful, magical Groundhog Day!"

Her eyes flutter open and drift over to me. I smile at her as my family gives her a round of applause. Instinctually, she curtsies for the crowd.

"And that concludes our Groundhog Day celebration," she declares.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

"Cy, you've got to come downstairs!" TJ calls.

I spit the foaming toothpaste out of my mouth. "What?"

"Just come."

TJ glides into the ensuite and removes my toothbrush from my hand, plunking it into its holder. He wipes my face quickly with a towel then takes my hand and pulls me down the stairs, not letting me rinse my mouth first, so the taste of mint cherry lingers on my tongue.

In the living room, the TV glows with a paused image of me and TJ on our first day moving into our starter house. I remember that day.

"You got out the home videos?" I say.

"I wanted to prove to you that we're the cutest couple on this goddamn planet."

He smiles and pulls me around to sit down with him on the couch. The second he presses play on the memories, I sink into his arm, lying my head on his shoulder, in awe of how incredible he is and how much I love him.   
  
  


_"TJ, hold the camera still."_

_"It's part of the cinematic effect."_

_"TJ..."_

_"I'm just bugging you."_

_The frame stops moving, and I smile in front._

_"This is our first day in our first house," I say. "There are a few problems—"_

_"A lot of problems," TJ cuts in off-screen._

_"But who needs railings anyway?"_

_"Isn't there a municipal law?"_   
  
  


A few more videos play through, and I smile reminiscing about each one.   
  
  


_"TJ, why are you filming this?"_

_"It's a special memory."_

_"We're getting car insurance."_

_"Still special."_

_"How is car insurance special?"_

_"It's car insurance with you."_

_I go soft, giving in to a grin._   
  
  


"We were really cute," I admit, and TJ gives me a kiss on the head.

Then the video content changes. The next one isn't of me and TJ. It's of us and someone else.  
  
  


_"Who do we have here?" TJ says from behind the camera._

_I lift the one-year-old up to show the camera, replying, "This is baby Jayda."_

_"Jayda's from Arizona. We just got home from picking her up."_

_"She's asleep right now," I say. "Tired from the drive."_   
  
  


Soon, another person comes on the television.   
  
  


_"Jayda, are you reading a book to your new brother?" I ask while filming the girl._

_She sits on the floor, reading a children's book to Wyatt who lies on a mat on his back, eyes wandering around blankly. Too young to actually know how to read well, Jayda recites what she can from memory._

_"And the cat got—got—uh—food, and—and dog."_

_"Jayda," comes TJ's voice._

_The little girl looks up at her off-screen dad._

_"Do you like your brother?" TJ asks._

_"He's okay."_

_TJ and I share a laugh._

_"He's okay?" TJ repeats._

_"Yeah."_

_"But you love him, don't you?" I say._

_"Yeah," she answers._

_She starts petting Wyatt's head, and Wyatt squirms, confused by the touch._

_Then Jayda says, "He smells bad."_

_"TJ—"_

_"Yup" he says as he bends down to pick up the baby._   
  
  


"TJ," I say.

TJ tilts his chin down to look at me. "Yeah?"

"We raised good kids."

"I couldn't agree more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a very lovely day. Next episode monday.


	148. S4 E7.1: Valentine's Day

**Buffy's POV**

"Ding dong!" Declan chirps, echoing the sound of the doorbell.

He sucks on a glittery teething ring while I carry him to answer the door. Jayda, dressed to the nines in a black velvet dress, steps in with a smile.

"Andreas!" I shout.

"Hi," Jayda says. Then she steps up to Declan and repeats it, but in her baby-talk voice. "Hi, Declan."

"Hi," he drools with the teether in his mouth.

Andreas comes galloping down the stairs as Jayda admires my son.

"He's getting so big," she says.

"Yeah, almost one," I respond.

Declan looks up at me and babbles, "Wah wah."

"Ugh, I just love babies," Jayda fawns. "They're so cute. It makes me want a baby."

At that, Andreas wraps his arm around Jayda and turns her the other direction, saying, "Okay, you're not allowed to look at babies anymore."

I chuckle as Andreas puts his jacket on and steers Jayda out the door.

"Enjoy your date," I tell them."

Jayda glances back, replying, "You too!"

"Thanks."

I shut the door after they exit, and not even a minute later, Brayden comes down the stairs, wearing a button-up shirt and plaid pants, even though he's not going out tonight. His style has evolved from hoodies to history professor over the years, and it doesn't matter anymore whether he's leaving the house or not. It remains consistent.

"Perfect timing," I say. "Do you need anything before we leave?"

I pass Declan over to Brayden, and Declan starts reaching for Brayden's short curls with the hand that isn't holding the teether in his mouth. Brayden does his best to duck away from the baby's grasp, but Declan persists, and Brayden eventually caves, letting Declan's fingers pinch through the strands.

"Not that I'm incapable of obtaining myself," Brayden answers. "I've got all the Sherlock Holmes books out and ready to read."

"Brayden, you know he can't understand those."

"So you expect me to let my brother grow up dumb? We already saw how that turned out with Andreas."

I release a sigh. "Okay then. Uh, don't let Cara set anything on fire."

Brayden nods and carries Declan downstairs at the same time as Marty descends from the upper level in his suit pants and jacket. He comes toward me with a grin and I meet him halfway, observing the pleats down his pants and the lack of wrinkles in his freshly-ironed shirt. He never irons, but today's a special occassion.

"Oh, you look good," I compliment.

"Thanks. I figured you'd be mad if I didn't," he jokes.

"Smart," I respond, followed by a laugh.

After heading out the garage door, I link my hand into Marty's, guiding him toward the car.

"You're gonna like where I've planned for our Valentine's Day dinner," I say.

"Careful, Driscoll, you're getting my hopes up."

I whirl around and pull his hands to bring him closer to me.

"Good," I respond and lean in, pressing my lips with his.

Once we separate, I drop my hands from his and loop around the car to get in.

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

As I round the corner into the kitchen, the gleam of gold-rimmed plates on the dining room table catches my attention. It's not just that. The flower-patterned glasses are set up with the nice, black table cloth that we only use for holidays. The sight makes me smile in surprise. TJ and I were planning to go out, but clearly he had something else in mind.

"Aw, TJ!" I swoon.

My husband comes through the hallway to stand by me.

"This is so sweet," I go on. "Is this your way of saving money by not going out for dinner?"

TJ examines the table, but he appears to be confused.

"Uh, I love you and all, but I didn't do this," he replies.

"What? Then who—"

Wyatt steps in between us with a bathroom hand towel draped over his arm and a tie that's too short for him.

"I did it," he states.

"Why do you have a bath towel?" I ask.

"It's waiter aesthetic," he explains. "Anyway, I think Valentine's Day is stupid, but I guess it's part of what got me adopted, so I made a special dinner for you guys."

"Wyatt, thank you."

"Yeah," TJ agrees. "You must be getting good at cooking with that club of yours."

Our son shrugs. "That's open to interpretation. Take a seat!"

Wyatt bolts off into the kitchen, rushing to stir a pot of something tomato-smelling.

Leaning over to TJ, I say, "Even if the food is awful, we have a good son."

"And at least we're not spending money on expensive restaurant food."

I give TJ a hard look, and he starts laughing.

"Hey, it's just another pro."

I shake my head but kiss him on the cheek anyway, to which TJ comes back with his own kiss on my lips.

"Didn't I say to sit down?" Wyatt shouts.

"Okay, got it" TJ responds defensively.

We both find places at the table while Wyatt continues preparing the dinner he made.

Though Wyatt's clanking cutlery, I look across at my husband and say, "Happy Valentine's Day, Teej."

He gives me a gentle smile, responding, "Same to you, Cy."

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

Glowing glass bulbs are suspended from the ceiling over our table at the restaurant. It's busy, as expected on Valentines' Day, and couples are seated in every possible inch, getting as close to fire code as possible without breaking it. Across our table, Jonah looks down at his menu. pondering the food and other thoughts.

"I wonder how Austen's doing all alone," he mutters.

"She's not alone," I remind him. "She's with your mom. She'll be fine."

He takes that in and eventually agrees, "You're right. I was with my mom my whole childhood, and I'm fine."

I lift my eyes up to Jonah again, but rather than make a remark, I say, " Okay, let's take a look at the menu."

"Ooh, they have spicy chicken tacos!" Jonah notices. "Those are Austen's favorite."

I furrow my brows. "What do you feed her when I'm at work?"

"We should've brought her," he mumbles. "She probably feels left out."

"She doesn't need to be included in our marriage," I respond.

"But she loves Valentine's Day."

"She wasn't with us for her only other Valentine's Day."

"Yeah, but we watched the Charlie Brown Valentine's special, and she loved it."

Jonah's wide eyes made me go soft like dandelion fluff giving up.

"You really want her here, huh?" I say.

"Don't you? We only have so many dinners left before she starts eating in her room and...giving herself tattoos."

"I really hope she doesn't do that second thing."

Jonah shrugs. "Still..."

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

The gallery's high ceiling cradles the nearly-empty space, bouncing back the echoes of the footsteps of the few people admiring the artwork spread throughout. I've been here before—I've been to every gallery in Shadyside because of Andi—but the work has been swapped out recently.

"I guess most people don't consider art galleries a Valentine's Day thing," I comment, looking around at the bare room, "which is weird, since there was a whole era of art called romanticism."

"I mean, it's not really the same thing," Andi replies, "but you got the spirit."

I lace my hand into Andi's and step over to the directional signs.

"Ooh, watercolours," I read excitedly.

"Why don't we start with the sculptures?" Andi asks instead.

"We have a whole museum of those at home," I reply, "and this looks cool."

I lead her toward the colourful room of canvasses, and she sighs.

"You just love any medium I don't use, huh?"

"Andi, I promise I love you more than watercolour."

I sprinkle a kiss on her lips, and she smiles, her cheeks warm.

Then the second I continue walking, she asks, "Are you sure?"

"I mean, if it matters that much we can—"

"No, you're right," she cuts me off. "If you want watercolour, this is your Valentine's Day too, so we can start there. It can't take too long anyway."

Happily, I lock my hand tighter over hers and pull her over to the sign at the beginning of the room of watercolour paintings.

"A hundred and four pieces by Shadyside's emerging artists," I read out.

"One hundred and four?"

Eager, I flutter on in.


	149. S4 E7.2: Valentine's Day

**Marty's POV**

Buffy holds my hand as she pulls me toward the large, black doors of the restaurant. The handles are thick bars of swirling metal, and the white shutters show through the windows of each table in the place.

"No way!" I gasp. "Brook's Corner! But you hate this place."

"It's true," she admits. "I think the service is terrible and the food is greasier than a 1950's hair salon, but you like it."

"I love you," I tell her.

"I know."

She gives me another peck on the lips before spinning around and yanking open the door for me. Once inside, I follow her up to the counter where the host looks up from a whiteboard map of the restaurant with all the tables X'd out in red.

"Hi," Buffy says. "We have a reservation for Buffy Driscoll."

The host looks down at a list on a clipboard, and after about a minute and a half, he says, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't have your name down."

Buffy is taken aback by that, shaking her head. "No, I called yesterday. They said 6:00."

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "I don't have you here. I could get you a table, but it will be a forty-five minute wait."

"Uh, no," Buffy snaps, her voice turning into thunder. "I made this reservation. I want my damn table now."

"We don't have any empty tables."

"So build a new one!"

I take Buffy's shoulder, turning her toward me. "Buffy, it's fine."

She lets out a huff and crosses her arms. "I made this reservation."

"I know, but it's really not worth it. And honestly, it's kinda disappointing how many other couples think this place makes a romantic Valentine's Day."

Still upset that her gesture didn't work out, she grumbles, "Well what do we do now?"

I pause to ponder that while she waits. Luckily, something comes to mind quickly.

"I have an idea," I say. "Come on."

I take her hand and lead her out of the restaurant back to the car.

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

The second I hear my girl's voice, I light up. Austen scurries ahead of my mom as they enter the restaurant, making her the only kid in the entire elegant establishment.

"Hello," Mom says with a smile.

"Daddies!" Austen cheers.

She climbs onto my lap, and I help her up. Immediately, she becomes entertained by the napkins on the table and picks one up to start folding it.

"You really didn't get a big enough table," Mom notes before turning to the first server that passes and requesting, "Sir, could we get two more chairs please? Make one a high chair."

"Uh, we don't have high chairs," the man answers.

"Then build one," my mom states.

The server hesitates a second, but my mom turns back to me and Walker, not giving the server a chance to deny, so he nods and moves on.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Austen squeaks while playing with the napkin.

I squeeze her in a hug, making her giggle.

Across the table, Walker replies, "You too, Austen."

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

The lighting tints the place with a subtle pink, hitting the white walls and marble floor. Like any good vegan restaurant, plants decorate the walls in long planters. I'm definitely dressed better than the other people here, and so is Andreas in the suit that I forced him to wear, but it doesn't matter, because Valentine's Day is important and should be dressed up for.

Andreas swirls his fork in his giant bowl of spaghetti.

"Why did you get so much?" I question.

"Because I thought we would share it like that movie with the dogs," Andreas explains.

"I don't want your half-eaten noodles."

"Okay, but you do want—" he looks across at my plate "—mini cabbage heads?"

"They're Brussels sprouts," I correct him, "and they're good."

"Isn't that the vegetable that every kids' show says is disgusting?"

I roll my eyes. "You've never even had Brussels sprouts."

"Doesn't mean I don't know about them. Vegetables aren't rocket science."

I set my fork down and fold my hands together as I challenge, "Andreas, name ten vegetables you do know."

"Uh, carrots, bell peppers—"

"That's a fruit."

"Pumpkin—"

"Also a fruit."

His eyes go wide as he tries to think harder, but I can tell he's stuck.

"Uh, the thing Popeye eats," he says.

"Who?"

"Oh, sorry," he says, a grin curling. "I forgot you don't know any pop culture that isn't about a reality show."

"Hey! You, jerk!"

My reaction makes him laugh, and he raises his eyebrows in the flirty way that makes me need to hide my smile under an eye-roll.

"What am I?" Andreas teases, lowering his voice to a register that he knows makes me go all stupid-fuzzy.

"You're so annoying!"

He continues to laugh, and I shake my head at him, but I'm pretty obviously smiling at how annoyingly attractive I find him. Soon, a server comes over, having heard my complaining, to check on us.

"Is everything alright here?" he asks.

"Oh, yeah," Andreas replies. "This is how she shows she loves me."

Andreas flicks his eyes at me with a grin, making me shake my head again.

"Uh, I see," the server says and steps away to continue with his job.

While Andreas keeps his stare on me, I shift mine down onto his garlic toast, and I reach over to steal a piece for myself.

"So you won't share spaghetti, but you'll share garlic toast?" he questions.

"Yes, exactly," I answer with a smile and take a bite out of the bread.

He shakes his head at me this time, laughing a little.

All of a sudden, my whole mood changes when I see two girls walk past our table toward a booth together.

"What the hell?" I mutter.

Andreas furrows his brows in confusion. "What?"

He glances back to see where my focus is. In the booth, the two girls pick up their menus, one with blonde hair and a dress shirt for the occasion. With blue eyeliner, the other girl is there, tall and irrelevant. The only fact about her that matters is that she's not the person she should be.

"Is that Sarah?" Andreas whispers.

"Yup."

"And that's not Hazel."

"Not unless Hazel grew a foot."

"A third one?"

I roll my eyes at the joke.

"I thought Hazel was supposed to be out with Sarah tonight," I say.

"Maybe she cancelled," Andreas suggests.

"So Sarah found some other girl instead?"

"Maybe they're friends?"

"On Valentine's Day?"

"Maybe it's her birthday?"

At that instant, I see Sarah lean over the table and kiss the other girl who takes Sarah's cheek in her palm like this isn't new for her.

"That's one hell of a birthday gift," I growl.

I fire up out of my chair, and Andreas looks at me in fear.

"What are you doing?" he questions.

"Making a scene," I reply.

"What if Hazel and her broke up?"

That's a valid question, so I take it into account. I pick up my phone and send my cousin a text.

 **Me:** Did you and Sarah break up?

Three seconds, and she replies.

 **Hazel:** No?"

She starts typing another message, but I lock my phone, not caring what it will be. I march halfway over to Sarah's table, then backtrack, pick up Andreas's giant-ass spaghetti bowl, and finish the rest of the way to where I let the noodles loose on Sarah's head.

The tables nearby gasp, and Sarah's date looks shocked. Anger boils on Sarah's face, but when she looks up and sees me, it turns to terror. I smack the bowl down on her table for her to deal with later.

"Excuse me!" Sarah's date shouts.

"Oh, you are excused. But your cheating girlfriend isn't." I respond with a smile fitting for the snake in the booth.

Blue eyeliner girl blinks, baffled, then immediately wants answers, asking, "Sarah, what's she talking about?"

Sarah is at a loss for words. "Um..."

"Well, this was fun," I say since Sarah can't seem to spit out anything of use, "but I won't take up too much of your time. Toodles!"

I give them a flittering finger wave before heading back to my throne again at my table with Andreas. While I take another bite of garlic toast and put my phone away in my purse, Andreas is gawking at me in amazement.

"That was hot," he says.

I smile at the compliment then stand up again, putting my coat on and tossing my purse over my shoulder.

"Come on," I say.

He gets up with a nod, knowing what I'm thinking without me needing to say it.

"We're going to Hazel's?" he guesses.

I nod. "I'll pay, and I'll get you more dinner on the way, since I lowkey stole it."

"It was for a good cause," Andreas responds.

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

I put the car in park and flash Buffy a smile, but she's just looking at me in confusion.

"What are we doing at Jefferson?" she asks.

"Not Jefferson."

I swing open the car door then go around to the trunk to pull out a blanket. With that under my arm, I take Buffy's hand and pull her along the grass field until we land on the familiar red of the track circle. There I lay out the blanket and lower onto it.

"We're at the beginning," I say.

Buffy's eyes melt when she understands what that means, and she sinks down next to me.

"Marty," he says, her voice soft and mushy.

"I can be thoughtful."

"You've always been thoughtful," she agrees.

She's about to come in to kiss me when I have to reach up to accept the bag of food from the delivery guy sauntering over.

"Hey, thanks," I say.

I tap my credit card on his machine, and he heads off, leaving the boxes of baby taters and burgers with us.

"You got The Spoon delivered?" Buffy says, her mouth agape.

"Yeah. This way we can have both our favorite places this Valentine's dinner: yours which is the spoon, and mine which is anywhere with you."

Buffy smiles. "You read a lot of Valentine's cards recently, didn't you?"

I respond with a grin, "You know it."


	150. S4 E7.3: Valentine's Day

**Jayda's POV**

I knock on Hazel's front door but get no answer. I try again a second time, louder.

"Why isn't she answering?" I huff. "Where else would she be?"

I lift my arm to knock again, but before I can, Andreas grabs my hand.

"I got this," he states.

He smiles and steers me down off the porch and around the side of the house up to Hazel's bedroom window. Andreas reaches up and slams his hand on the glass, and Hazel whips open the window instantaneously.

"What are you—? How—? What?"

Rather than answer Hazel's questions, Andreas hoists himself up through the window frame. Once inside, he leans out to latch onto my hands and help me up too. When I get my head through the hole and my hands firmly on the sill, Andreas takes me by the waist, lifting me in the rest of the way.

"Thanks for tracking snow on my bed," Hazel says sarcastically.

Andreas and I both kick off our shoes onto the floor and sit down at the head end of her bed while she rests, annoyed, at the other.

"Hazel, what happened with your date with Sarah?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah, um, she had to cancel," Hazel replies dimly. "Her—uh—she had too much homework."

I shift a little closer to her, dreading what I have to tell her. This is Hazel's first real girlfriend, at least that I know of. That thing she had with that redhead when she was 13 hardly counts. That was a middle school crush. But this was real for her.

"Hazel, that's not why she cancelled," I say gently.

She looks scared by that, asking, "How do you know?"

Andreas and I share a sad glance, and I take in a breath to release the bad news.

"Hazel, we saw Sarah with another girl...not like friends."

Hazel is silent. But not silent like sad silent. She's silent like thinking silent. She pushes herself onto her feet and takes a few steps away before facing us again, her eyes on the floor, her face lacking the tragic shock that should be there.

"You good?" Andreas wonders.

"I—" Hazel shuts her mouth suddenly, trying to redirect what she was saying, but I figure it out.

"Did you know?" I ask her.

Hazel lets out a heavy breath and nods.

Andreas is puzzled by that. "Wait, was it an open relationship?"

Hazel shakes her head and falls back against her closet doors. As her back hits the wood, her blank page expression begins to wrinkle.

"I'm not an idiot," she mumbles. "I noticed Sarah was acting weird, and that she would go places and be super vague about it, and I kinda pieced it together."

"Hazel," I say, "if you knew, why didn't you break up with her?"

"Because I—" She pauses, tears now poking her eyes. "What if I don't find anyone else?"

I react immediately, saying, "Hazel—"

But she cuts me off to continue while sobbing. "Like, she was everything I wanted, and I couldn't have that. What if I just...can't ever have it? What if I don't deserve fidelity?"

"Hazel, that's stupid," I respond.

"No, see, you guys are, like, actual soulmates." She gestures at me and Andreas while her voice wavers under the pressure of the tears she's failing at holding in. "Like, I sometimes watch you two together and question how you can be so perfect for each other, but I... I've never met anyone like me. I've never met anyone who gets me like you guys get each other, or who would stay up all night to help me plagiarize a poorly-written English paper, or who is enchanted by the simple sound of my voice. Maybe that person just doesn't exist."

"Hazel, come here," I order.

She drags herself over and plops down on the end of her bed beside me, her posture folded and low. I lift a lock of hair out of her face, pushing it behind her ear so that I can see her eyes, although she doesn't want to look at me.

"There is someone out there who is going to love you. I promise," I state.

"How do you know?" she utters.

"I'm psychic, remember?"

Andreas leans forward, adding, "Plus, there are, like, seven billion people on this planet, and no offence, but you're not that special. Someone else has to be like you. I'm not good at statistics, but I feel like that makes sense."

Hazel chuckles a bit at that and sniffles. After a moment, she wipes her nose with her wrist and sits up a little.

"I guess I should break up with Sarah," she says.

"Actually, you might not have to worry about that," I respond.

She furrows her brows. "Why not?"

"Jayda dumped my dinner on her head," Andreas answers.

That makes Hazel gasp and start laughing in shock. "Oh my God." Then a few seconds later, she adds, "I love you guys."

I wrap my arm around her and give her a hug, while Andreas scoots up to do the same. Stealing our moment comes the sound of the doorbell.

"Who could that be?" Hazel wonders as she gets up.

"Oh right," I remember. "I might have accidentally totally on purpose told Brayden what happened, and he might have, like, definitely said he was going to bring food and movies with your friends."

Rather than be upset at me, Hazel smiles and goes to answer the door.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

The second I step away from the final painting, Andi lets out a relieved breath and locks her arm through mine.

"Okay," she says, "we're done the watercolours. Time for sculptures."

She begins pulling me around to the next room.

"You really are eager for that," I comment.

"Eager? No. I'm totally normal," she says in a not normal way.

"Andi Mack, normal isn't a word I'd use to describe you," I respond with a chuckle.

"Come on," Andi pulls.

I speed up, following her fast feet into the space. It opens up in vibrant lighting, artwork puching up out of pedestals and from the ground. Then my gaze stops on a butterscotch gold glass sculpture.

"Wait," I utter. "Is that...?"

I walk forward toward the piece. Bubbles are frozen inside the glass, creating internal gleaming throughout it. Colourful flowers form around the bottom and up along the hair of the head. It's me. It's a sculpture of me among flowers, made of hand-blown glass.

"If I knew you liked watercolour so much, I would've made you out of that," Andi teases.

I let out a laugh, still in wonder of my wife's work.

"Andi, I love it," I tell her.

Andi's lips bend into a smile as she says, "Happy Valentine's Day, Amber."

Rather than reply with words, I reply with a kiss, throwing my arms over her shoulders and bringing her close against me, blending her lipstick with mine.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Fatima sits criss-cross on my bed beside me, while Kelsey and Brayden own the floor, which Brayden is slowly covering as he spreads out his stack of DVD cases.

"Okay," Brayden begins. "We've got _She-ra and the Princesses of Power_ —all five seasons—the second season of _Stranger Things_ —"

"That's not even the best one," Kelsey comments.

"—Season 3 of _Community_ ," Brayden goes on, " _Seventeen Again_ , _Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief_ , 2019 _Cats_ , and _Shark Boy and Lava Girl_."

Kelsey rests her chin in her hands, asking, "Why do you only have old shows? They're all from, like, when my mom was a kid."

"Because all the new shows I have are historical documentaries, and I didn't think a deep dive into the Cold War would help Hazel's heartbreak."

"Why can't we just watch Netflix again?" Kelsey wonders.

"Because Hazel's internet is horrid and won't connect," Brayden reminds her.

"Honestly, I don't care," I speak up. "You guys can pick what to watch."

"Shall I order a heart-shaped pizza from the place down the street?" Fatima asks.

"You don't have to," I respond.

Fatima smiles, saying, "Yeah, yeah," and gets out her phone to order, brushing off my polite refusal. "Vegetarian?"

I nod. "Thank you."

While Fatima brings the phone up to her ear and my friends on the floor remain in debate about the show, I get up.

"I'm gonna get a soda," I say.

I make my way down the hall and into the kitchen. There, Linny is sipping a glass of juice. I slip past her to get to the fridge, but my appearance startles her when she turns around, and she flinches, sending juice splashing down on the floor.

"Sorry!" Linny reacts.

Frantically, she sets the glass on the counter and searches for something to wipe up the spill with, but I beat her to it, grabbing a towel from the sink and kneeling down.

"It's alright," I tell her.

As I start drying the floor, Linny says, "I can do it."

The offer makes me smile, but she'd never take a break if everyone always let her follow her kind heart.

I raise my head up to look at her and respond, "So can I."

I finish cleaning the floor then stand up tossing the towel on the counter to deal with later. When I look at Linny again, her face is red as usual, and she's holding her juice glass tight in both hands.

"Thanks," she says with a soft smile. "I'm a bit clumsy."

"It's alright. So am I. The amount of times I've tripped over nothing but the floor is honestly impressive."

Linny giggles a little at that. "Yeah, me too. I almost face-planted on your porch stairs coming in here."

This time, I laugh, and she smiles, her eyes flicking down and to the side while her fingers fiddle with the divots in her cup. Remembering what I came to the kitchen for, I spin around to the fridge and pull out a grape soda.

"Do you want one?" I ask Linny.

She shakes her head. "I'm alright, thanks. I don't like fizzy things."

I nod and shut the refrigerator. When I turn around to face Linny again, I can tell she's in thought, so I don't move yet, curious about what she wants to say.

"I'm really sorry about Sarah," Linny eventually speaks. "I—I wish I could make you feel better."

I smile at her and her wide, blue eyes that can't seem to stay in one place, for they wander about my figure like a lighthouse searching a sea.

"You already are," I say.

Her eyes float up to mine as her face turns pink like getting an instant sunburn, but she can't hold the gaze longer than a few seconds, her eyes dropping again as her smile rises.

"Anyway," I say out of the silence, "time to go see what show they've picked out."

"Oh, gosh. I hope it's not _Cats,_ " she replies.

I let out a laugh and start toward the hallway, looking back once to make sure she's following. She is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I really liked writing this episode. There's a lot coming up, and I bet you can already guess some of it. Feel free to guess in the comments if you want. I won't confirm it, but I like hearing your thoughts. Have a lovely day!


	151. S4 E8.1: Potty Training

**Brayden's POV**

Out from the crowded school hallway, Linny slips free and holds up a flyer and a beaming smile. Kelsey shuts her locker and folds her arms and she studies Linny's paper alongside me. I recognize the colourful font lettering immediately.

"Did you steal this from the wall above the water fountain?" I question. 

"Yes," Linny confirms. "So?"

"The March Ball," Kelsey reads aloud. 

Kelsey and I both furrow our brows, unsure what Linny is trying to tell us, but Linny acts like it's clear. 

"Precisely," Linny says. "Aren't you excited?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Kelsey replies, a tad puzzled. "What movie are we watching that night?"

"No movie," Linny corrects her. "We'll be dancing."

Kelsey and I share a glance, equally as befuddled by the situation at hand. After a moment, Kelsey finally speaks what we're both thinking. 

"Since when do you go to dances? You hate crowded social events."

"And loud bass," I add on.

"And strobe lights."

"All true," Linny says. "However, I want to try something new this year. I already confirmed that there won't be strobe lights, since I pointed out to the principle the ableism in having such lighting present when there are surly kids who may have seizures in that type of setting. I also contacted the DJ company to ask for a list of all the songs they'll be playing so I know exactly what to expect—"

"They gave you that?" Kelsey says in surprise.

"No. But they did agree not to blast the music at an ungodly volume. And I don't hate people. Yes, I'm not a fan of a herd of sweaty teenagers, but it's not unbearable."

Kelsey nods. "My apologies. You've thought this through more than I assumed."

"You're forgiven."

"So I'm going to presume we're all going together," I chime in. 

That's when Linny's face goes pink as her eyes flutter to the ground and back up. "Well, uh, we could, but also, seeing as this is my first dance and all, I thought maybe I could find a date."

"You want to ask someone out?" Kelsey says, a smile curling. "Who?"

Linny's never shown interest in romance before—romance that's not fictional, I mean—so this is a twist neither of us were expecting. At Kelsey's question, Linny begins laughing nervously and twirling her hair around her fingers. 

"No idea yet," she replies. "Um, I've got to get to class. Bye."

She whips around in a whirl of wind, zipping away in a matter of milliseconds. 

"She's horrible at lying," Kelsey comments. 

"She is," I agree. "But I'd hate to tell her that and damage her pride."

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

As I round the wall into the living room, too many questions pop into my head. 

"Jonah, why is Austen on the potty while watching Good Luck Charlie?"

Our daughter sits on the plastic seat directly in front of the television, her dress covering to her knees. Jonah is on the couch behind her, monitoring her while reading a comic book. 

"Because," Jonah replies, "I figured out how to get her to pee in the potty. She has to be watching Good Luck Charlie."

I glance at Austen then back to my husband.

"Has she peed yet?" I ask. 

"She did earlier. Not now, though."

Jonah frowns, and a minute later, Austen's face scrunches in stress, and she looks back at Jonah.

"Poppy, I gotta pee," she complains. 

"Yeah, that's the point of the potty," Jonah states. "Can you use the potty?"

Austen shakes her head no.

"This looks like it's going well," I say dryly. 

Jonah lets out a sigh. "It was working earlier."

"I think we need to try something else."

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

The remote control rattles when my character gets shot, and I quickly try to get my cover back. Among the noise, Cara leans over the sofa to watch my video game. 

"Didn't you say you had something to do tonight?" they ask. 

"What? What would I have to do?"

I shoot another player before he gets me, then I run to change locations, Cara's voice still yammering to my left. 

"Beats me. But you said the TV would be available for my leisure."

"I doubt I said the word leisure."

"Yeah, I know any word beyond one syllable is a struggle for you," they snipe. "Seriously, though. Get out. It's my turn." 

"You're just going to play my games anyway."

"And I'm better at them than you."

They swipe the remote control from my hands so fast that I can't even realize what's happening until they have it. Then they jump onto the couch and exit my game without even saving my progress."

Although frustrated, I know I didn't get very far in my game anyway, so I don't bother fighting, and instead I check my phone. 

The date on the screen reminds me immediately, "Oh, shit, I did have something to do."

"Told you."

"I'm supposed to pick up Jayda from some party with her friends, and it's across town. I won't make it on time. Bluefoot Trail is always packed at this time."

"Too bad you're not dropping her off. Then you could use the carpool lane."

Sometimes Cara says some pretty genius things, and this is one of those times. The idea hits me instantly, and I look over at my sibling. 

"Cara, if I buy you ice cream—"

"I can make ice cream out of snow, syrup, and milk," they shut me down. "But I can't play video games with snow."

I sigh, but Cara doesn't give me any pity. They just open up their witch game and start casting spells on sherifs. The rustle on the stairs brings my eyes that way, and there my mom is coming down the stairs with Declan on one hip. 

"Hi, Adweayay," my little brother babbles. "Hi, Cahcah."

All of a sudden, I a lightbulb goes off in my head, and I spring onto my feet.

"Mom, I'm gonna borrow Declan for a bit. Can I take the carseat from your car?"

My mom is confused, asking, "Wait, where are you—?"

"Yo, thanks."

I grab Declan from her arm and buzz up the staircase.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Fatima's emerald green hijab radiates under the bright hallway lights as she stands with me at my locker. Her eyes like black prisms swipe across the crowd curiously as cheering bursts out. I select my books from off my shelf before shutting the door and turning around. 

"What's happening?" I question. 

"Looks like a dance-posal," Fatima replies. 

Two heads shift, allowing me a glimpse of the centre of attention, which happens to be Jayda with her arms wrapped tight over Andreas's shoulders. Lifted off the ground, she's spun in a twirl by Andreas before he lets her down onto her tip toes again. 

"Yup," I say. Then I turn my eyes onto my friend. "You're not going to the dance, huh?"

"Nope. Doctor comes first. But if my spine were straight and not causing me back pain, I would come. Just for you."

"Yeah, focus on your spine."

"I think Aimée and Darius are going, though."

Just as she finishes that sentence, the school bell jingles, splitting the wave of students into separate streams. 

Fatima steps out to join one, saying, "See you later."

"See you."

I shut my locker and begin down the hallway in the other direction, but rushing footsteps catch up behind me, and I look over to see Linny slowing down to my pace at my side. She hugs her books tight to her chest while flipping back the hair that's fallen in her face. 

"Hey, Hazel," she chirps then immediately explains, "I said hello. I didn't stutter."

Her nervousness makes her cheeks go pink. Admittedly, it's kinda cute, and it causes me to smile.

"Hey," I respond. 

"Hey, so, um, I assume you've heard about the dance by now."

"Yeah. Why? Are you going?"

"Yeah."

Her answer surprises me a bit, maybe just because I'm not even that into big social events, and I didn't think she was either. 

"Hmmm. I didn't think it'd be your thing," I say. 

"Well, actually, um..." She interlocks her hands and swings them in front of her as she spouts, "I was wondering if you..." her voice dies out as she looks down for a moment "...were going too."

"Yeah, probably."

"Cool. So, um, I—I want to ask someone to go with me."

My eyes snap to her like lightning at that. Linny with a date? That's something new. 

"Awww, who?" I wonder with the eagerness of an elementary school girl. 

Linny's lashes flutter as her eyes flitter up and down until she finally answers, "Um, just someone I kinda like."

"Well, I have total confidence in you."

She smiles and says, her voice gentle as a chickadee, "Thanks."

She takes a few more seconds to think while we walk, but when she's done, she takes a turn rightward, even though I'm pretty sure her class isn't that way. 

"I have class now," she speaks up suddenly, "but I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, Linny."

I wave as she winds into the crowd, dodging all the bodies like a pinball.

**Brayden's POV**

Kelsey and I both look up from our desks when Linny comes scurrying into the classroom and to her desk in front of me. She hurries to open her books as though our teacher actually starts class on time, which he never does. 

"Where were you?" Kelsey asks.

Linny blinks a couple times, delaying her answer. "Uh, washroom."

Before I can pry further, the boy who has the desk next to me turns his knees my direction and leans forward to ask me a question. 

"Hey, Brayden," Joel says, "what book is that?"

A strand of his auburn hair is slung down his forehead, slicing his face in two freckled halves while his slithery green eyes latch on the novel in my hands. 

"The Colour Purple," I answer then return my attention to the story. 

But Joel continues the conversation, tossing another question my way. "What's it about?"

"If I tell you, it will spoil your own reading experience."

He shrugs while responding, "It's okay. I'm probably not gonna read it anyway."

"Pity. You should."

My eyes find the page again, but Joel still isn't done. 

"Hey, you know there's a dance Friday."

"That is correct," I confirm.

Somehow, that's when he goes quiet, turning to sit normally in his desk again, giving up talking to me. He's nice, and I'm not trying to be rude, but I'm simply more interested in the plot of my book.

"Brayden," Kelsey hisses, making me flinch and look up. 

"What?"

"I think he was trying to be friendly," Linny says, "and you were too focused on your book."

"It's a good book," I defend. 

Rather than humour me in arguing further, Kelsey and Linny just shake their heads and spin around to face the front of the classroom.


	152. S4 E8.2: Potty Training

**Andreas's POV**

The second my feet plant on the main floor, I search the space for my target. 

"Where's Declan?" I ask. 

My mom comes out from the kitchen where she's making dinner. 

"He's taking a nap," she replies. 

"Cool, I'm gonna take him for a bit."

My dad and mom both share a glance then look at me in confusion. 

"Where are you going?" Mom questions. 

"Gotta buy a calculator before the store closes," I explain. 

"Why is Declan coming?" Dad wonders. 

"Carpool lane. Who knew a baby would be so useful?"

"Wait," my mom goes on. "You don't have a calculator yet? You're in twelfth grade."

"I've been using different ones I found around school, but someone took the one I had back today," I explain, annoyed. 

My mom furrows her brows. "How are you not failing math?"

I start laughing awkwardly. "Ha ha ha, right, not failing. Anyway, see you later."

I whip around and launch back upstairs to find my baby brother. 

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Walker and I sit on the bathroom tiles, while Austen silently stands, swinging her arms around to entertain herself. The spiral-haired doll I hold up lures her eyes my way, and she sucks on her fingers while I begin the demonstration that I found recommended for potty training on the internet. 

"Okay, this is Lily."

"No," Austen immediately cuts me off. "That's Tom."

"Fine. It's Tom. Tom has to pee. Do you remember where Tom goes when she has to pee?"

Austen blinks at me mindlessly. "McDonalds."

Walker lets out a sigh, but I try to keep my positive attitude as I respond, "No. Tom goes to the potty."

I sit the dolly on the rim of the plastic potty, and Austen watches, wide-eyed like seeing a dancing elephant at the zoo. 

"See," I say then take the dolly back. "Now can you try using the potty?"

Austen hesitates for a moment then eventually waddles over to the potty, but rather than sit down, she begins to reach inside. 

"It's clean, right?" Walker whispers. 

"Yeah," I confirm. 

Austen feels around for a bit then sticks her head down inside. 

"Nope, that's the wrong end," I say. "You have to pull down your training pants and sit on the potty."

Austen looks again at the potty then back at us then at the potty then us then the potty—

"I'm hungry," she says and runs between Walker and I out of the bathroom. 

Walker looks at me with disappointment clear in his expression. 

"We'll try again later," I conclude. 

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

Cyrus and I follow Buffy around her main floor while she searches for her purse, phone, and keys and simultaneously explains all the things we need to know for the night. 

"And we moved the diaper bin to the other side of the crib, so yeah. Uh, the bottle's in the fridge. he also really likes these fruit squeeze pack things. They're on the counter in the kitchen. And his pyjamas are in his crib."

"Buffy," Marty says as he shows up behind her, "I think they've got it."

Marty passes Declan over to me, and I recall how to carry a child at this strange rift between infancy and toddlerhood. He doesn't squirm when I rest him on my hip, so I guess I'm doing it right. 

"Gwabababa," Declan gurgles. 

"Am I forgetting anything?" Buffy asks, scanning the room another time. 

Marty swings his arm over her shoulder, replying, "Nope. Come on. We don't want to miss the movie."

"Okay," Buffy accepts. "Goodbye, Declan."

They two of them get their shoes on at the door, and Marty waves before they vanish for good, and it's just Cyrus and me with the baby who seems currently content with just scratching at the stubble on my chin. 

"I don't think we've watched a baby for at least a few years," Cyrus realizes. 

"We never watched Austen?" 

Cyrus shakes his head. 

"Man, now I got to remember what to do with a baby," I say. 

All of a sudden, my luck ends, and Declan begins wailing, tears soaking my sleeve. 

"Oh, goodness," Cyrus mutters. 

He takes Declan from my grasp and starts gently bounce-rocking the baby, an attempt to soothe him into quietness. 

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

When I get home from work, I hang my coat up in the closet and go into the kitchen where Jonah is currently cooking pasta for dinner. The pot of hot water bubbles on the stovetop, releasing steam that coats the cabinets in dew. 

"Hey," I say. "How's potty training going?"

Before Jonah can answer, our daughter runs into the kitchen, squeezing her stuffed deerctopus in her arms. 

"Poppy, I need new diaper."

"Austen," I say, "do you remember what the potty is for?"

She cocks her head to the side. "Dolly?"

I crouch down to her height to explain, "No, it's for you to go pee in."

The girl's chin falls. "Oh."

Doing his best to mask his frown, Jonah tells Austen, "Come on, let's get you a new pair of training pants."

"Okay!" Austen squeaks as she starts skipping after her dad. 

________________________________________ **  
**

**Brayden's POV**

Linny's dress shimmers under the coloured lights in the school gym. She was on video call with Kelsey and I for at least half an hour earlier today, trying to choose which dress to wear. She finally settled on this topaz yellow garment with three-quarter-length sleeves and a glittery skirt that goes down past her knees. Kelsey's dress is a stark contrast. It's solid black and thin-strapped, ending at her mid-thigh. I take the middle ground between the bold and the dark with some beige trousers and a white dress shirt. 

Linny was right; there are no strobe lights. However, it is a tad dim for my taste. The DJ is set up adjacent to the snack table, but nobody's dancing to his tunes yet. In fact, there's nearly no one here. The few that are here are playing on their phones while sitting against the walls on the floor.

"This is lovely," Linny fawns. "Do all dances look like this?"

"This is the first we've been to," Kelsey replies, "so I couldn't tell you."

"There's hardly anyone here," I comment. 

"Yeah," Kelsey responds. "I think it's a cool person thing to show up late."

"Well, that's ridiculous," Linny states. "If it says 6:00, the sensical thing is to show up at 6:00."

Suddenly, Kelsey changes the subject, saying, "Hey, Linny, didn't you ask a date to the dance?"

"Oh, yeah," I say as I recall her telling us that. "What happened with that?"

"Oh, uh..." Linny hesitates to respond, as though afraid. "She said no."

Linny's eyes fall onto the floor dimly, and Kelsey pouts in sympathy. 

"I'm sorry," Kelsey says, touching our friend's shoulder. "We're gonna have a great time regardless."

Linny smiles and opens her mouth to speak, but she quickly changes course and closes it again, finishing with just a nod. 

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

I come down from Declan's room and see TJ in the living room, the bawls of the baby boy we're babysitting filling the air. yet TJ doesn't seem concerned. I wind around the couch, confused about why TJ doesn't care that Declan is clearly in distress as he sits on the couch beside TJ. 

"TJ—"

"Cyrus, watch this," he interrupts. 

"Declan is crying."

"Yeah, but watch."

My husband picks up the television remote and clicks a button, making a Disney prince movie begin playing. Instantaneously, Declan's cries dry up, and his eyes glow as he gawks at the screen in silent captivation. TJ looks at me proudly. 

"Have our parenting skills really gone this far downhill?" I joke. 

"Hey, I think I invented something. You'll have to write a book on this method."

"The Disney prince movie method?"

"Maybe call it the Kippen Disney prince movie method."

I smile at that and sit down with him. Declan continues to stare at the screen in pure wonder of the animation. 

"You like this movie, huh, Declan?" I say. 

Immediately, he pushes his finger to his lips and shushes me. I hold in my laugh, looking at TJ. 

"Hey, don't interrupt a man and his prince movie," TJ whispers. 

I shake my head but remain smiling. 

"Imagine if Wyatt was this easy when he was a baby," I say. 

"Yeah, I thought all babies were like him," TJ recalls, "but apparently most don't try to climb inside everything they see."

"Yeah. Too bad we never got to see Jayda this young."

"Hey, we have her now, and this is the best time."

"She's an adult," I say, and I knew that before, but it never really got the chance to sink in when I was busy helping her understand the different between rural and urban living for an assignment. "At least on paper," I add.

"Yeah. In five to ten years, we might have another baby around to babysit."

I haven't thought of that before, but I suppose he's right. 

"Oh, goodness," I breathe. "We'll need to stock up on Disney movies."

"Shhhhh!" Declan shushes again, and this time TJ and I both obey, letting the little boy watch in peace. 

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

My hand locks with Walker's, my elbow curling his torso as we rest on the couch together, browsing the kids movies on Netflix, not liking anything we find more than we like just being here together. We still haven't chosen a show when Austen comes scurrying into the living room carrying a pink bowl of grapes.

"Daddies, move!"

The two of us split apart just in time for Austen to leap up onto the couch and situate herself between us.

"Ready to pick a movie?" I ask her.

She begins to nod, but the stops suddenly, shouting, "Wait!"

She shoves the bowl into Walker's lap then climbs down off the sofa, runs down the hallway, and pushes open a door.

"Is she in the washroom?" Walker realizes.

Both of us taken by surprise, we get up and follow her path. Once we get there, she pulls the door open again and marches out with a smile.

"Did you just use the potty?" Walker wonders.

"Yeah!" she cheers.

"Austen, I'm so proud of you!" I tell her.

She giggles and brings her hands up to her mouth, about to start sucking on them, but Walker grabs her wrists just in time.

"Uh-uh," he says. "Before doing anything else, you have to wash your hands."

I lift up my girl by her armpits and hold her up over the sink so that she can place her hands in the streaming water as Walker turns on the faucet. Walker squirts some foaming soap into her hands, and she immediately starts clapping, giggling as the soap puffs fly.

"Rub your hands together," Walker instructs.

She does, and once her hands are coated in white, I bring her forward to rinse her hands clean. Finally, I place her back down on the ground and dry her hands off with a towel.

"Movie time!" she cheers and takes off back toward the living room.

As I'm about to leave to join her, Walker makes a discovery and frowns.

"She didn't use toilet paper."

"Baby steps," I respond.


	153. S4 E8.3: Potty Training

**Brayden's POV**

The dance has finally gotten into the swing of consistency. People crowd in clusters, bopping to the rhythm of each tune that comes on. I take the song switching to a hip hop song as my cue to have a break from dancing with Kelsey and Linny for a bit.

"This song is too funky for me," I shout over the noise. "I'm going to obtain a beverage." 

I sever away from them and wind through the labyrinth of teenagers to the drink table. The options are limited to water and various sodas, all bottled to avoid spills. Aluminum cans would certainly be a more environmentally-conscious offering, but I settle and select a Mountain Dew. 

As I crack the seal and remove the cap to take a sip, a body approaches to my right, and I look over to see Joel floating nearer until he stops a couple feet from me. With his hands tucked in the pockets of his navy plaid trousers, he gazes at the busy gymnasium, only flicking his eyes to me once. But then another time, and on the third, I catch them. With a contained smile, he takes another step closer to me and stops pretending to be solely interested in the crowd. 

"Hey," he says. 

"Hello."

"How's the book?"

"S'well," I reply. "But you should read it yourself."

He gives me a smile and says, "I might just have to. Are you here alone?"

"No. I'm with my friends."

He nods and follows my eyes to where Kelsey and Linny are spinning together on the dance floor. 

"No date?" he wonders. 

"No date," I respond, giving him my eyes again, and as I do, I see the clockwork reeling in his mind as he has a thought. 

"Hey, would you like to dance with me?"

Although I guess the question certainly didn't come out of nowhere, part of me is still caught off guard. I suppose because the thought of dancing with a boy nowadays seems so abstract, more of a fairytale than a real possibility. But it's not exactly magic. It's entirely realistic. It's simple. It's just a dance. 

Eventually, I respond to his question. "I'm not much of a dancer, but thanks for the offer."

Joel nods, accepting my answer with tact. "All good. I'll see you around."

"Yeah."

My eyes stream after him like driftwood as he walks away, his red hair like a ruby among the other heads of coal. 

"Was that Joel?"

I snap my attention leftward, seeing Linny beside me now.

"Yeah," I reply. "He asked me to dance."

"And you said no?"

I nod. She doesn't say anything to that, and I can't tell whether she's judging me or not. It feels like she is. Or maybe she isn't, and that's just my own brain filling in the feelings. As I try to redirect my thoughts, I watch her standing alone, staring at the dancers, and I come to the epiphany that I don't know the answer to something yet.

"Who did you ask to the dance?" I wonder. 

Linny hesitates to answer, still contemplating as she says, "Oh, um, you don't know them."

I nod then add a second later, "You know I know you're lying, right?"

Her blue eyes flash wide on me in fear. "How?"

"I'm not impeccably observant, but you happen to be terrible at lying—and my best friend."

"Oh."

She looks down at her feet, her heel pivoting back and forth anxiously. 

"You didn't really ask her?" I guess. 

Linny shakes her head, but then the last word in my sentence clicks in her mind, and she brings her gaze up to me again in shock. "How did you—?"

Kelsey clunks over to us from the dance floor before Linny can get the rest of her question out. 

"Aimée is one hell of a dancer!" Kelsey says.

Linny and I trace Kelsey's eyes back to a circle in the crowd where we see our friend on the floor in the centre. 

"Is that her doing the worm?" Linny asks. 

Kelsey grins. "Yup."

**Hazel's POV**

I'm officially a wallflower, my back having warmed the cold bricks of the gym wall from being here so long. My cream-coloured dress doesn't have a back, so it was cold at first, but I stuck to it, too anti-social to be bothered. Aimée is in the centre of a dance circle, showing off while the viewers go wild. Adrian steps in soon, joining her in a duet of twists and spins. Darius probably wants to be out there dancing too. In his burgundy skirt and black vest, he's dressed for a spotlight, but instead he stays here with me. I'm not sure entirely why. I suppose he can tell I'm not exactly doing the greatest.

"I didn't realize she could dance like that," I comment about Aimée.

Darius lets out a chuckle. "You didn't know her in elementary school. She used to break dance during class to bug the teachers. It was real entertaining."

The song comes to an end, and the dance ring disperses. Aimée and Adrian hug and fall into conversation. Adrian's a bit of a sap, so I bet he hugs everyone and anyone. I doubt Aimée's special in that regard. 

Then the finger-plucked guitar of a slow song I vaguely recognize begins to play. I think it's called "[Anchor](https://youtu.be/mtp72RnFaRU)." It's an old song, but overall quite pretty and soft like listening to mist clouds. My gaze goes somber as I watch people pair together and dance. 

"How are you doing?" Darius asks, breaking our stillness. 

"Fine."

"No. _How are you doing?"_

His eyes dig the question into me like pressing a cherry pit into dirt. 

Eventually, I release a breath and confess, "Trying not to think about her."

Sarah never liked dancing, but she danced with me. Rarely, but she did. Because she knew I liked it. I wonder if she danced with that other girl too. 

"She didn't deserve you," Darius says. 

"You know, I keep reminding myself of that, but it's like it's dead air, and I just keep thinking about how good we could've been if she...wanted that."

"That's the thing, I guess. You both gotta want it, or it doesn't work. Can't carry a couch up the stairs with one set of hands."

I give him a curious glance, brows furrowed. "Where did you hear that analogy?

"Nowhere. My brother's moving into his new apartment this week."

I manage to laugh at that, making my muscles feel a bit lighter. But then my sight catches on a figure by the drink table. Linny stands watching the couples like Cupid must watch his clients, a starry-eyed girl in a dress like a sunflower. The way the light hits her makes her look seraphic, like a renaissance painting in strokes so thick they only give a blur of what she truly is. And she's all alone. Okay, she's with her friends, but she was supposed to be with someone else.

"Hey, where's Linny's date?" I question. 

"I haven't seen her with anyone," Darius responds. 

This is the first time for at least eleven songs that I've peeled my back off the wall. I make my way over to Linny, and she looks startled to see me. 

"Linny," I say. 

"Hi," she says with a smile. 

"What happened with that person you were going to ask out?" I ask. 

"Oh, uh, it didn't work out."

I frown. "Sorry. I know rejection isn't fun."

She forces another smile but keeps quiet, letting her sight fall to to her feet. Now I can see the glitter on her eyelids twinkle as her focus flutters around the floor. 

Then, out of pure impulse, I make an offer. "Hey, I know it's not the same, but if you want to dance with someone, I'm not doing anything."

She returns her eyes up on me, a bewildered expression shimmering on her face. Finally, she nods, and with that, I walk with her toward the rest of the dancers. 

**Brayden's POV**

Linny and Hazel glide like flower petals on a river toward the dance floor, while Kelsey, Aimée, and I observe the scene. 

"Do you guys wanna join them?" Aimée suggests, which can't blame her for, since she must now think this is a friend thing we're doing.

"Maybe let's let them be," I say. 

Kelsey seems confused for a moment, but when she looks at me, I cling to her stare, attempting to transfer the situation through the air into her head. It takes a few seconds, but when she understands, her mouth drops agape, and she turns her attention back on our two friends who've left to dance together. 

**Hazel's POV**

When we find a spot among the couples, Linny turns to face me. She raises her hands and awkwardly analyzes where to put them, hovering by my waist, then my shoulders, then dropping them back down.

"Um..." she mumbles.

The way she's pretty obviously nervous makes me smile, and I figure I'll take the lead to help her out. I place my hands carefully on her waist and step in a bit. Although a little spooked at first, she quickly relaxes and lets her hands find my shoulders, mimicking the other couples around us. We begin to find our pattern, swaying with the melody of the song.

"I love this song," Linny speaks. 

I smile as her eyes flicker around my face, like a GPS constantly recalculating, finding a better route each second. 

"I think I like it too," I respond. 

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

The sound of the front door opening draws me and Marty out of the kitchen to where my eldest son comes in holding Declan in one arm. 

"Where were you?" I question.

"We made a quick trip to KFC."

Andreas lifts up the fast food bag to show me. 

"Declan was supposed to be taking a nap," I tell him. 

"Well, we wanted some quality brother time."

"No, Andreas," I say, frustrated. "You can't keep using him to drive places faster."

Rather than apologize, he asks, "Want some KFC?"

Marty rushes around me over to Andreas, saying, "Oooh, yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a surprise a day early for y'all. I don't know when my next update will be, but it will be within the nest week. Have a lovely day!


	154. S4 E9.1: Hotel

**Jayda's POV**

Sunlight streams though the windows of the hotel room, landing at my feet where I stand on the other side of the bathroom door, waiting for Andreas to be finished. Soon, the door floats open, unveiling Andreas in a full green outfit, from the pants to the top. I push myself off the wall and come through the doorway to meet him as I gaze down at his clothing in concern.

"Drey, you can't wear that," I state.

He looks confused. "Why not?"

I press my eyes into his as I reply, "Drey, you're wearing all green."

Instantly, he turns to face the mirror in disbelief, shaking his head. "No way."

I place my hands on his shoulder, letting my chin rest there with them while he examines his reflection.

"You sure the pants are green?" he asks.

"Yes. I'm not colourblind."

Andreas lets out a sigh and runs his hand over his hair then says, "Guess I should change."

I give him a glance in the mirror before removing my hands from his shoulder and taking a small step back to kick the door to the washroom shut.

"In a minute," I say.

He smiles as I lace my arms over his neck to pull myself up to kiss him, but we only get a second before three bangs rumble the door.

"Jayda, Andreas!" Cara yells. "Get out of there! I gotta take a whaz!"

I release a groan and let go of my boyfriend then go over to open the door. Cara's eyes immediately latch onto Andreas in judgement.

"You look like an asparagus," they state as they march on in.

**Andi's POV**

The hotel hallway bridges all four of our family's rooms together, one for each household, with the exception of some of Cara who joined my family's room since Buffy and Marty have too many kids for one space. The elegant carpet design mimics the spiraling shape of twisted branches and leaves, and the dark wood furnishings reflect the forestry of Jasper, Alberta outside the windows. This vacation location was chosen by a raffle. A family member's name was drawn, and Wyatt's was pulled, and I guess he liked mountains at the moment, so he decided on this place. Why he couldn't have chosen somewhere closer, I don't know. So here we are, and here I am trying to get everyone organized so that we can get out of this hotel finally.

"Come on guys!" I shout as I peek my head into each room.

Everybody's busy doing something, whether that be fixing their hair, playing games, or simply refusing to get out of bed.

"Come on! Natured doesn't wait for us."

"Nature doesn't move," Wyatt mutters as he passes me by on his way into the Driscolls' room.

I follow him in there and find Jayda and Andreas standing in the hallway, Andreas in a full green ensemble.

"Monochrome," I comment. "Interesting."

"I'm gonna change, but Cara's in the bathroom," Andreas explains.

I nod and spin around again to announce to the others, "Hurry up! Let's get in here to arrange the day!"

I slide past Jayda and Andreas to get into the room. Finally, the rest of the family starts to join me, lots of the kids clustering on the beds to sit. Hazel passes Andreas on her way in and gives him elevator eyes.

"Oh, that's a look," she utters and carries on.

While Andreas sighs in frustration, Jayda looks at him and says, "You really need to start labelling your clothes."

"This isn't usually a problem," he replies.

"I beg to differ," my daughter chimes in. "In the previous year, you've mixed up green and brown in your clothing 18% of the time."

"How do you know that?" Jayda questions.

"I have a book."

Andreas raises his brows. "A book on my clothes?"

"No. A book on everyone."

She leaves through the door that connects this room to ours, and she comes back a second later with her tablet with the case she painted to resemble a whimsical purple sky. She plops down on one of the beds between Brayden and Wyatt and opens up an app, swiping to a specific page. By now everyone is gathered in this room, and Hazel's the focal point.

"I keep my book of observations on here," she explains. "It's where I record all the patterns of behaviour that I see with everyone I know."

Brayden leans over curiously. "You have me in there?"

"Of course." She swipes to a page. "Fun fact about you: you know five languages, but you speak English 98% of the time."

"Wait, you know five languages?" Buffy says in surprise.

"I need more multi-lingual peers," Brayden mutters.

"What does it say about me?" Wyatt chirps eagerly.

"Oh, your section is huge," Hazel replies. "In summary, you eat cereal like it's the only food that exists, you've have almost died several times, and you show a lot of ADHD tendencies. You should probably get diagnosed."

Amber steps forward next, asking, "Do you have stuff on me in there?"

"Obviously."

Hazel taps the tablet onto the correct spot while Amber examines it.

"What's that tally?" Amber asks.

"Oh, you and Uncle TJ are super hyper-competitive when given any opportunity to show some form of superiority or get your way, and you've both cheated on several occassions. I've been keeping track."

Amber whips around to face her brother, infuriated by this new knowledge.

"What have you cheated on?" she interrogates.

TJ shoots back with, "What have _you_ cheated on?"

"I have stuff on everyone's relationships and their dynamics," Hazel says as she continues to browse. "Like Uncle Jonah and Uncle Walker. Jonah always get Austen whatever toys or treats she wants, but Walker is more strict, so Austen has almost completely stopped asking Walker for things and only asks Jonah now."

Walker and Jonah snap their eyes together, Walker looking the most unsettled.

With concerned eyes, Cyrus wonders frailly, "What do you have on me and TJ?"

"Oh, nothing," Hazel answers with a chuckle. "You guys are perfect."

Cyrus smiles at that.

"But Buffy and Marty, there's currently a strong trend that the more kids you have, the smarter they become."

Brayden immediately dismisses the idea, saying, "That's absurd. That would allude to the notion that Cara is smarter than me."

Cara smirks when Hazel doesn't correct herself.

"Brayden, no offence," Hazel says, "but Cara has more knowledge on how to successfully commit crimes than anyone I've ever met."

"That's concerning," Buffy mumbles.

"But is it surprising?" Marty counters.

Cara lets a large grin onto their face as they gloat. "Feels great to be the smartest kid."

Brayden gives his sibling a glare, but Cara doesn't let it affect them.

"Alright," I interrupt, "can we just finish getting ready so that we can go make the most of our day?"

My sentence gets drowned out by everyone else as they continue arguing over Hazel's observations. My wife is caught up with her brother, and Jonah with Walker. Brayden is too busy being upset to pay attention, and Jayda and Andreas have disappeared at some point without me noticing.

Looks like nature will have to wait. Good thing it doesn't move.


	155. S4 E9.2: Hotel

**Amber's POV**

TJ tries to head for the door, but I block his way, not letting him get out of this.

"So you're a liar," I say, folding my arms over my chest.

He has to project his voice quite a bit for it to break above the rest of the conversing occurring in this hotel room.

"My car wasn't cheaper than yours," he admits, "but you kept bragging about how you could afford, like, a diamond-etched watch with the money you saved."

I shake my head, ignoring his shot. "I can't believe my brother's a liar."

"Come on. What about all the times you've 'baked' for us?" He adds finger quotes to disrespect me further.

"That's completely different!" I argue.

"No, I'm pretty sure it's the same."

I roll my eyes like we're annoyed teenagers again. I thought we'd gotten past this dishonesty with each other, but I'm obviously wrong.

**Jonah's POV**

Walker sits on a sofa chair, his hands clasped together, looking like he's deep in thought. I hate to interrupt that, but I hope he won't mind. I sink down into the seat next to him. His sight flicks to me before returning ahead.

"Hey, it's okay," I tell him. "You're not that strict."

I'm only lying a little. He can be pretty strict with Austen, but I don't want him to feel bad about it.

In response, he turns his head to me and states, "I know that. But now I'm realizing that you do get her everything she wants."

This shift in blame catches me off guard. I'm in trouble now? But I only want to make Austen happy. It's not fair. He could be easier on her if he wanted to, but he's getting mad at me instead.

"Not everything," I deny.

"Jonah, I can't remember a single time you said no to buying her a toy she asked for."

"Not true. I said no to the power drill," I combat.

He raises his eyebrows at me. "If you'd said yes, I would've been very concerned. Have you ever said no to her when it wasn't life-threatening?"

"Absolutely."

Suddenly, Austen scurries up to our chairs and turns to face me with her cute little smile. She fiddles with the seam on her shirt while swaying back and forth and asking me a question.

"Poppy, can I have muffin?"

"Sure."

Happy, she skips away to go play elsewhere in the crowded hotel room. When Walker gives me a glare, I realize my mistake.

"That doesn't count," I state.

**Cara's POV**

Outside the window of our little bubble of a room, trees sway faintly as the sun expels the moon. People with backpacks and hiking sticks leave the parking lot, heading left for the mountains, while others with sandals and animal-printed purses weave right toward the town. Personally, I'm one for the mountains, where pine needles fall and waterfalls form natural fountains, clouding any chance of silence. I like that no matter what, nature is always changing, and nobody tries to tell it to stop.

"Ah, yes. Hello, Brayden," I say at the rustle of footsteps on the carpet. I pivot my seated position on the window sill and direct my eyes at my brother. "I've been expecting you."

"How'd you know it was me?" he asks.

"Psychic abilities," I respond casually.

He rolls his eyes like brown yarn on a spindle. "Don't start saying that. It's annoying enough when Jayda says it."

"So we're both psychic. Call it genetics."

"That's not even remotely correct."

I shrug and lean back on the chilly glass between the curtains. Brayden takes a moment in quiet to ponder, his face reflecting his frustrated lack of acceptance of the plain fact he recites next.

"How are you smarter than me?"

"I think it's something we've always known," I reapond.

"You're literally using tape and a page from a hotel brochure to cover your paper cut."

He gestures to the injury on my arm.

"There weren't any Band-Aids," I defend. "This is called resourcefulness. It means I wouldn't die instantly if put out in the wilderness."

"Neither would I," he fights.

"Please. You'd get a stain on your button-up shirt and have a breakdown, 'cause you can't find a Tide stain remover stick."

He's frankly furious, but he doesn't have a comeback. I take that as a win for me and turn back around to the window.

**Jayda's POV**

Andreas and I dipped away from the family chaos long ago. I step out of the bathroom in my own room while tying the hair tie around the end of my fishtail braid. Then I pull it over my shoulder as I turn the corner out of the hallway just in time to see Andreas slipping a new shirt over his head. The muscles in his back ripple as he tugs the top down to cover them up. As soon as he's finished with that, he glances back, catching my watching eyes.

He smiles and spins to face me, asking, "Is this better?"

There's no green left at all. Instead, he's paired blue jeans with an orange plaid shirt over a grey tee. It's a quick and safe solution.

"Much better," I reply. "No green."

He breathes a sigh of relief while I make my way over to him. His eyes follow my hands as they reach up to fix his collar, which is flipped up on one side.

"I like this shirt," I say.

I lift my gaze upward at the same moment as Andreas's falls down to my lips, and the tension reels me in as his hands close on my hips. Our kiss is like a dandelion fluff taking flight, reaching its peak, then slowly fluttering down as my feet drop down flat again on the carpet. Grinning as I catch my breath, I let my head rest on Andreas's shoulder, and his arms tangle around me like roots finding home in the soil.

In the shimmering silence, my back flitters under each touch of his hands, my moth nerves swarming his fire hands, and I stare out the window at the hotel courtyard. A garden surrounds a gated pool, in which families play, regardless of it being spring and barely warm enough for that yet, at least here. Pillars hold up a round roof, creating a spotted sanctuary out of the sun where a breakfast cafe sells colourful drinks to guests at tiny tables.

"This room has such a better view than yours," I utter as I back out of Andreas's embrace and drift toward the window. "Not to brag."

Andreas keeps his hold on me by lacing his hand through mine.

"I have a pretty good view," he counters.

That's when I notice he's not even looking out the window, but instead at me, and I roll my eyes, smiling at his cheesiness.

When I look outside again, I notice a floof of wild, white hair like a crinkled paintbrush walking down the pathway. Atop the white is a crown of flowers, the yellow in that matching the yellow in the woman's tie-dyed, long skirt.

"That person kinda reminds me of my grandma," I comment.

Andreas finds the person I'm looking at pretty easily. She doesn't exactly blend in.

"Weird," I say. "Apparently she isn't as unique as I thought."

**Andi's POV**

Well, it's long past when I hoped to leave, but I still can't get anyone to get out the door. After a while of me standing alone in disappointment in the midst of the mess of discussions, Buffy comes beside me, her arms crossed.

"This is why I didn't ask what Hazel knew about me," she mumbles.

**TJ's POV**

"Me, a cheater?" Amber scoffs. "Excuse you. Which one of us got all the answers to our high school math homework from your friends?"

"That's different," I argue.

"How?"

"I have dyscalculia. You flip the coin to land on tails all the time, making sure you always get your way."

"I stopped doing that!"

"Last Christmas you made me make dinner by flipping the coin," I remind her.

At this point, her face in red in anger as she huffs, "It's not my fault it took you that long to figure it out!"


	156. S4 E9.3: Hotel

**Jonah's POV**

Bored of waiting, Austen comes back to where Walker and I are sitting to ask, "Muffin now?"

I glance to Walker, not sure how to respond. I know he wants me to say no, but I already promised it, and that wouldn't set a good example.

"Well, I did say she could have it," I say.

Walker lets out a breath and tells Austen, "Give us another minute, okay?"

"Okay," Austen huffs. "I go show Declan how to eat TV remote."

"Okay, have fun," I reply.

The girl shuffles away toward her cousin.

Suddenly, Walker's eyes spring wide. "Wait Austen— Oh, good. Buffy's handling it." He releases a breath and turns his judgement onto me. "See, this is an example of a time when you can't just say yes."

"I know. But she's so little, and I just want her to have fun."

"Ingesting electronics isn't the way to go."

"Yeah, but with other things. I want her to have what she wants."

"But you know we're gonna go broke if she gets that," he replies calmly, nudging his gentle eyes into mine. "We need to establish rules."

"That's what you're for."

He shakes his head at that. "But I don't want to be the dad that says no all the time. Austen likes you, and honestly sometimes I think she likes you more than me."

His chin drops downward as that blue tone of that confession mists me in guilt.

"Walker, I'm sorry. I don't want you to feel that way. She loves you, because you love her, and I see that."

"I just want us to be on the same page, have consistent rules with how we raise her."

I take a moment to accept that before saying, "Fair enough. Maybe we can talk about what those rules can be after vacation?"

He gives me a smile. "Okay."

"Cool. Wanna come get muffins?"

He lets out a sigh and answers, "Sure."

**Amber's POV**

"Okay, this is stupid," I bark.

As soon as that slips from my mouth, Andi curls around me, inserting herself into mine and TJ's conversation with a sigh of exhausted joy.

"Finally!" she groans. "Can we go now?"

"No," I snap back. "We still need to finish this."

"You just said it was stupid," TJ pushes.

I narrow my icy eyes again. "Thanks to that, I changed my mind. I'm still mad."

Next, Cyrus wanders over, his eyebrows up like a puppy dog begging for a treat.

"How about we try something other than arguing," he suggests.

TJ and I both give our attention to him, neither of us convinced yet.

"I know you're siblings," Cyrus goes on, "and I suppose this is what they do, but you're setting a bad example for our kids."

I scan the room quickly, seeing only Hazel invested in her tablet, not at all paying attention to us. 

"Literally the only one of ours here is Hazel," I point out, "and she's in her own world."

Cyrus furrows his brows as he looks around, wondering, "Where's Jayda?"

"Probably wherever Andreas is," TJ responds.

"And Wyatt?"

Both men look at each other, realizing quickly that they have no clue the answer to that.

"He's probably fine," TJ eentually says.

"See," I say. "No one to negatively influence."

"No, no," Cyrus denies, sounding worked up now. "I'm here, and I'm getting quite frustrated, so you need to settle this, and I think the best way to do that is to accept that you're both liars, and that's just who you are, but you love each other, because you're siblings, and because of that, you'll both be kind enough to please shut up so that Andi can stop stressing out, and we can all go on our hike."

"Thank you!" Andi exclaims.

**Hazel's POV**

Brayden sits down on the bed beside me, careful to not wrinkle his pants, and ignoring the fact that I'm clearly absorbed in my own work on my tablet, he asks a question.

"Hazel, do you think I'm unintelligent?"

Instantly, I roll my eyes. "Brayden, give it a rest."

"No. I'm supposed to be smart. That's my whole—"

"It's your identity," I finish for him, sitting up and closing the cover on my tablet. Right now I'm really done with his narcissism, and I'm ready to squash that flat.

"Yeah."

"Yeah. So is being witty and a good friend, and wearing professional attire in casual situations, and liking documentaries about anything, and understanding the stock market like nobody else. Now consider this. What's Cara's identity?"

Brayden has trouble with that. "Uh, cosplaying book characters...arson..."

"Mmhmm," I respond with narrow eyes. "And is arson a good identity to have?"

"Depends on the situation—"

"They're realizing how actually intelligent they are and how much they can be, and as their _humble,_ older brother, you should be supportive and encouraging, not competitive."

"If I wanted to talk to my mom, I would've," Brayden mumbles in annoyance.

"Too bad. You're talking to your mom friend."

He looks down at the quilt in thought for a moment before concluding, "I should go talk to them."

"Yup."

**Cara's POV**

Tiles form a mosaic on the basin of the fountain in the hotel lobby. The blues and reds refract as they pass through the surface, forming a mix of colours like a puddle of spilt paint. I lie on the marble fountain rim, one hand skimming the ripples, while I stare up at the ceiling. The rest of the lobby is overwhelmingly gold and cream-toned. The pillars and walls all share the same brown hue, and the cream furniture is detailed with gold outlines and flowers.

I hear the footsteps of my brother's loafers clack on the tile flooring as he approaches me and sinks down on the fountain edge by my feet.

"Hello," he speaks.

I tilt my head up to look at him, then I let it drop and return my gaze to the ceiling.

"May I ask why you're lying down?"

"The view is better," I reply.

"What view?"

"Maybe try lying down and learn for yourself."

Brayden follows my directions, leaning back on the marble. He gasps when he sees what I mean: the mural of baroque-style flowers arching over our heads.

"Oh, wow," he breathes. "That's exquisite."

We both continue to stare as the sage green leaves among pink petals painted on the ceiling. Reds and yellows pop from the background, another layer of flowers hidden farther back.

"I'd like to apologize for implying that you're inferior," Brayden says.

"It doesn't really matter," I respond.

"It does," he insists.

"Okay," I mutter, figuring agreeing is the easiest way to end this conversation.

But he continues. "You're a wonderful person with many great qualities, and I suppose I assume too often that you know that."

"Are you just saying that?"

"Have you ever known me to lie to protect someone's feelings?"

I guess that's true.

"You know, almost everything I know is because you taught it to me," I say after a minute.

"I don't recall telling you a lot of the things you know."

"But you were the foundation. I know more words than anyone in my class. People think I'm weird for it, but I can insult the popular kids in multiple languages."

"Hmm." Brayden takes that in. "I feel oddly proud."

I raise my head again to get a better sight of my brother, but he's still looking upward, so I just smile and lie back again.

**Andi's POV**

When I come back from my room into Buffy's, I take this as my opportunity to act.

"Wow, no yelling," I realize. "Okay! Time to go! Now!"

Everyone in the room gets themselves together, gathering their bags and jackets, but as I count the bodies, I realize there's a big portion missing.

"Where are half the people?" I question.

Hazel climbs down from bed and comes over, answering, "Jonah and Walker took Austen to get muffins from the cafe downstairs. Brayden is having an intimate discussion with Cara. And Jayda and Andreas are probably somewhere making out."

"Awesome," I mumble dryly. "Well, everybody who's here, come on!"

Suddenly, a noise behind me makes me turn around, and I see Wyatt coming down the hallway toward our rooms with his arm wrapped around a tray holding a whole ice cream cake, and in his other hand, he's using a pencil as a spoon.

"Oh, we're heading out now?" he says. "Cool. I'll just put this in the fridge."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! Tomorrow marks the beginning of the Yuletide, so happy Yule! Happy belated Hanukkah! Happy early Kwanzaa! I'll probably have another episode, maybe two more, before Christmas and Kwanzaa, but in case I don't, Merry Christmas as well.


	157. S4 E10.1: Mountain Mom

**Amber's POV**

Dirt kicks up onto the toes of my sneakers as I walk next to Andi, leading the rest of our large family along the pathway. This mountain's been hiked many times, hence the man-made trail that loops through the trees which stand tall as a five-story house. The trunks are as wide as half a car, hinting at their old age. Before beginning the incline, Andi spins around to address the group.

"Okay, come on," she orders. "Don't stray off."

Of course, Wyatt isn't paying attention and immediately gets distracted, saying, "Is that a snake?"

He hovers toward it with an eager grin, but Cyrus hooks his hand through the teen's arm, preventing him from wandering off.

Andi takes a breath and begins another sentence. "I know we've never hiked as a family before—"

"Yeah, whose idea was this?" Jayda interrupts, "'cause my feet are made for flat ground. Anything above a 30 degree angle is too much."

My daughter glances to Jayda in befuddlement. "You know angles?"

"It's going to be fun," Andi insists, "so stop complaining, because I don't want to hear it."

I look over at Andi with a look that asks her if she's alright.

She releases a sigh and takes a moment before explaining, "Sorry, but my patience ran out this morning."

A cluster of other hikers pass us by, their chatter overtaking the sounds of nature, but their voices fade as fast as they come, and Andi takes that as our cue to get moving.

"Okay," she says, "let's—"

Suddenly, I see a white cloud of curls approach on the path.

"Mom?" I exclaim.

My brother, just as shocked, whips around to see our mother in all the glory of her tie-dyed skirt and crown of flowers and tree branches. Her hands float like being lifted by the wind as she glides over to us with a smile.

"Oh, Amber, deary!" she greets. She englufs me in a hug, then over to my my brother. "TJ!" Another step to the left takes her to Buffy. "I don't recall giving birth to you, but hello!" She hugs her too.

"That's my friend, Mom," I say. "What are you doing here?"

My mom lets go of Buffy and twirls to face me.

"I live here," she states.

"You live in a mountain?" Wyatt reacts.

Mom spots Wyatt among the group and goes over to him in wonder, saying, "My, aren't you tall now. Have you always had glasses?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot I have those," Wyatt mumbles.

"Wait, Mom," I say, drawing her focus back onto me, "what do you mean you live here?"

"I live here," she answers, "in a house a little away."

"For how long?" TJ questions.

"Going on three months now. I just love the smell of the nature, don't you?"

"Yeah, sure," I respond, still fairly confused.

"Tilda," Andi chimes in, "we're about to hike the mountain..."

I flash my wife a look, which makes her hesitate to finish her offer, but unfortunately she ends up doing it anyway.

"Do you want to join us?" Andi asks, unsurely watching my reaction.

Too late. My mom gets excited, cheering, "Oh, I'd love to! Amber, your wife is so thoughtful. You should be more like her."

"Here we go," I mutter.

Mom lifts her skirt above her ankles, revealing her brown sandals, and takes a step up the path, saying, "Shall we?"

**Andreas's POV**

While everyone else heads forward, Jayda pulls my hand, forcing us to walk a little farther behind.

"Do you like hiking?" she asks.

"Sure."

"Okay, but do you like hiking more than you like me?"

Her eyelashes flutter as she smiles, an idea forming behind her eyes.

"What do you want to do?" I ask her.

She stops walking and faces me as she replies, "Did you know the legal drinking age here is 18?"

"We're 18."

Her grin widens, showing her teeth, seeing that we're in agreement.

"Hey, Jonah," she shouts, "we're gonna go do something else."

Austen swings Jonah's arm while Jonah glances back at us, confused as he begins, "Uh—"

"Bye!" Jayda squeaks before he can say anything.

She tightens her hand through mine and takes off, pulling me with her.

**Buffy's POV**

Marty, Cyrus, and I hike in a line while TJ and Amber are up at the front with their mom, and everyone else is scattered around. I've been glancing over at Cyrus since we started walking, examining the blue-striped bucket hat on his head.

"Cyrus, I've never seen you wear a bucket hat before," I say.

"It's my hiking hat," he responds. "I got it specially for this."

Marty looks back at Declan who's in the carrier on his back with a pink bucket hat of his own and a pair of white sunglasses.

"You match Declan," Marty comments.

Cyrus and Declan both make eye contact for a second.

"Your baby has good style," Cyrus says.

"Thanks," Declan replies.

"When was the last time you and TJ went hiking?" Marty wonders.

"TJ went hiking."

Cyrus stops talking there, and Marty and I look over at him, waiting for him to finish, but then I realize that's the end of his sentence.

"We walked along a river once," he eventually adds. "I lost my shoe."

"Nothing screams Cyrus more than a missing shoe," I respond with a laugh.

"I'd prefer that not to be my trademark," he mutters.

"Good thing you're surrounded by people who've hiked a ton," Marty says. "I know a lot about surviving in nature."

"Marty, we're walking up a designated dirt path," I state. "You don't need survival skills."

"You love to doubt me, don't you?" he responds.

He gives me a little grin, which makes me smile and rolls my eyes.

All of a sudden, Cara yells at us from behind, "Come on, slow pokes! Get a move on!"

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

"Take a breath in," Mom says.

She sounds like a meditation video on Youtube, but she looks like a Disney Princess designed my five year-olds. That's my mom for you.

"You smell that?" she asks. "There's a forest fire nearby."

"I don't smell it," I say.

"It's okay, honey. We know you're not the brightest in the head, but you have the brightest heart." She gives my shoulder a pat.

No, I'm pretty sure there's no smoke. Either that or my sense of smell is screwed up.

"So what happened with your boyfriend? Does he live here with you," Amber asks her, reminding me that the last time we saw her, she was dating a man only a few years older than my daughter is now.

"Oh, no," Mom replies with a light chuckle. "Funny story, actually. He spent his last euro on iced coffee then said he was gay and applied for a college philosophy program."

"That's..." I honestly don't know how to finish that sentence. "...weird."

"Euro?" Amber mumbles.

"Anyway," Mom goes on, "I decided he needed to fly free. Besides, he was growing his beard out, and it started to remind me too much of your father. So I moved here where I'm one with the trees."

She spreads her arms out and inhales the mountain air. Interrupting her moment, Austen breaks away from Jonah and runs up to my mom to stare up at her from her side.

"You look like a princess," Austen says.

Gone soft from the compliment, my mom stops travelling and bends down to Austen's height.

"Aren't you cute," she says. "Ride on my back, moonbeam."

She turns around, and Austen leaps up onto a piggyback ride. With the new weight, my mom doesn't even wobble as she carries on hiking.

"I'm gonna teach you all about the different trees."

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

The town of Jasper is lively, with several families strolling up and down the wide sidewalks. Wood peaks on stone-front buildings point toward the clear, blue sky. Jayda maintains our linked hands as we pass by a few different gift shops, a couple of which Jayda gazes into, pointing out colourful soaps among the moose-themed merchandise. When we finally get to the bar Jayda is leading us to, she squeals in excitement and dashes up to the door, tugging me with her.

"Look at that," she says. "No need for fake IDs."

I furrow my brows and give her a wry grin. "Do you have one of those?"

Rather than answer, she shrugs and continues up to the lady waiting at the entrance. Jayda and I take out our driver's licenses and show them to the woman.

"First time at a bar?" she says, inspecting our cards.

Jayda nods.

"Well, welcome. Don't drink too much."

She steps aside, opening up the door for us. Jayda enters first, and I follow, entertained by her child-like amazement. I don't get to see her like this that often, at least not when she's around others. She likes to put on a cool girl front, but she's secretly pretty cute.

"See," she says, "here we're, like, actual adults."

The bar is filled with red and brown in the wooden furniture and the burgundy walls. The same colour scheme spills into the people with their dark, bushy beards and plaid shirts. Not everyone here looks like a lumberjack—but enough do. Jayda claims a stool at the counter, sitting right next to a large, red-headed man and his friends.

The bartender comes over immediately, asking, "What can I get you two?"

"A cosmopolitan," Jayda answers without a second of thought.

The bartender nods, seeming taken aback by her instant response, then takes my order. While he mixes the drinks, Jayda's eyes drift over to the man next to her as she begins to listen in on his conversation with his friends.

"You need to shave that scruffy cloud on your chin," his friend with a pepper grey ponytail and brassy eyes says.

"Not gonna happen," the redhead responds. "My beard's my signature."

Jayda's stool squeaks as she swivels to lean into the discussion.

"Excuse me, hi," she says. "I totally agree that the beard needs a little cleaning up, but definitely don't shave it completely. You've got such a gorgeous jawline. You just need to accentuate that with the shape of your beard. But removing it would give you a total baby face."

The adults stare at her, probably wondering who this kid is giving them grooming advice, but she doesn't look affected.

"Who are you?" the redhead questions.

"I'm Jayda Kippen. Who are you?"

The reflection of his question takes him by surprise, making him chuckle a little.

"You know," a different man, this one with a green ball cap, says, "I agree with her."

"You a barber?" the brassy-eyed woman asks.

"Aw, aren't you sweet?" Jayda responds with a smile. "I'm not officially, but I've watched all Twenty-five seasons of Queer Eye."

"What would you recommend for me?" brassy eyes wonders.

"I like the bob, but honestly, I think you could totally pull off a pixie."

"A pixie?" she says with a slight grin of surprise.

Jayda nods. "Mhmm."


	158. S4 E10.2: Mountain Mom

**Marty's POV**

"Ahh!" Cyrus screams as he frantically whips his hand back and forth over his pant leg, dusting the place where a tree branch brushed him.

"Cyrus, calm down," Buffy says. "It was just a tree branch."

"I could have a tic on me!" he freaks.

"You won't have a tic on you," I insist. "You're wearing long pants."

"I could have lyme disease," he goes on.

"Cyrus," Buffy repeats, "you don't have lyme disease."

"You don't," I agree. "I know about foresty things, so trust me."

Buffy narrows her eyes skeptically at me and nods. "Mmm. I can tell by the way you call it 'foresty things.'"

"Hey, I used to go hiking with my family all the time when I was young," I remind her.

"Yeah, but you're not, like, an outdoorsy guy," she combats.

"Not true. I love outdoors."

"Right," she responds with a sarcastic voice and a smug grin.

**Wyatt's POV**

Cara swipes their foot at a rock, launching it into the trees to our left while we walk. It leaves a divot in the wet soil. Tree roots curl along the pathway, forming natural stairs for to help us. That and the darkness caused by the wall of trees on each side of us makes it feel like we're going up some medieval tower staircase.

"Why'd you pick here for vacation?" Cara wonders.

I shrug. "Honestly, I just remembered Andreas's middle name was Jasper when they were asking me. I kinda zoned out and forgot I was supposed to say a place to go on vacation."

They smirk at that. "Nice."

"I like it here, though. I've never been this high off the ground."

"I like it too," they agree. "Feels powerful."

They glance out through a break in the forestry at the view of green-carpeted mountains, each plant looking like a piece of broccoli due to the distance.

"Looks like you could step on one of those trees," I comment.

"Maybe you could. I'm short."

I look them up and down, noticing that they only reach just below my shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, you are," I respond.

"Mom says I'm gonna grow, but being short is good, because if the aliens come, they're gonna see the tall ones first and abduct you."

"Hmm. Makes sense."

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

Half of the bar is clustered around the dart board, cheering as Dan with the red hair and beard completes his last throw, getting in the triple ring of the 20. The crowd cheers, and he roars with pride. Then Jayda takes his place, and everyone hushes while she focuses on her throw.

"You got this, kid," brassy-eyed Leanne says.

She takes her first shot, getting a triple 16. Her second lands in the green outer ring of the bullseye. The room is quiet as a graveyard. Last shot: bullseye.

Cheering erupts, and Jayda spins around proudly, her braid flying. I had no idea she was this good at darts. It's pretty attractive.

Several burly men and women surround her, patting her back and shoulders while she raises her hands in victory.

Suddenly she shouts to the bartender, "Ryan, next round's on me!"

Everyone cheers again, this time even louder. In the midst of sopping up all the applause, Jayda's eyes catch mine, and I just smile at her. Lured by that, she makes her way over to where I'm leaning against a table, and she leans back next to me. Naturally, her presence makes my arms come unfolded, like a flame bending glass.

"I didn't know you were good at darts," I say.

She smiles happily. "Neither did I."

Someone nearby calls her name, and she's immediately whisked away to converse with her new fans. Her disappearance is quickly followed by the approach of Leanne.

"That your partner?" she asks me.

"Yup," I reply with a smile.

She chuckles a bit and takes a sip from her glass. "Better put a ring on that one, eh?"

Leanne carries on toward another group of people, leaving me with that remark. I look back at where Jayda is laughing in a circle of folks. I doubt Leanne realizes we're only 18. Maybe she's just too tipsy to care. Or maybe she's onto something. I don't know. We're still only 18, not even out of high school.

I return my attention to the dart board again where two guys are selecting their darts.

"Hey," I say as I go over, "can I get in on this game?"

"Sure, bud," one of the men replies. "Grab some darts, eh?"

I do so and step to the side to watch the other guys throw their darts, during which I feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist, and I look to see Jayda's chin on my shoulder.

"You got this," she whispers.

Then she kisses me and lets me go up to take my turn. It turns out I'm not as good at darts as Jayda is, like, at all. Also, now I understand why there are a million little holes in the wall here.

"Hey, you got _one_ on the board," Jayda says, trying to sound positive.

Dan leans down to Jayda to say, "You're not with him for his darts skills, eh?"

"No," she replies, flashing me a smile. "But he's cute."

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

Austen clings to my mom's hand, leading the pack.

"Keep up, now," my mom calls out to me and TJ. "I didn't raise you lazy."

Andi leans closer to me to whisper, "Are you sure she raised you at all? You guys are nothing like her."

"Thank you," I respond. "I would be kinda offended if you said I was."

My mom glances back at the sound of chatter, asking, "What?"

"Nothing!" I quickly reply. "Hey, what tree is this?"

My mom looks where I'm pointing and answers, "Oh, that's a black cottonwood. Isn't it gorgeous?"

"Very," I respond.

We carry on walking for a minute until my mom gets another thought and decides to bring it up.

"TJ, honey, have your considered growing a beard?"

Instantly, Cyrus steps up, saying sternly, "No, no, he has not, and he won't."

My mom looks at him in surprise, offended by his immediate disagreement.

Cyrus lowers his chin, saying quieter this time, "But thanks for the suggestion."

TJ chuckles and takes the hand of his husband, making a small smile appear on Cyrus's lips.

"How unfortunate," Mom responds.

"Poppy should have a beard!" Austen squawks.

Walker shakes his head at that, saying, "We're not going to do that again."

"Well," my mom says to Austen, "at least we're open-minded enough to see the possibilities."

Austen giggles and smiles while she walks with my mother, but Jonah and Walker watch with furrowed brows while they analyze the situation.

"Amber," Jonah says, "something about watching Austen with your mom feels like hippie propaganda."


	159. S4 E10.3: Mountain Mom

**Brayden's POV**

I've ended up at the back of our group. Thankfully, Hazel stops to wait for me to catch up to her, although no one else does.

"How you doing there, bud?" she asks as she starts walking again, keeping with my pace.

"I wasn't built for hiking," I respond between breaths.

She chuckles at that. "But look through the trees. It feels incredible to see everything from this high up."

I shake my head. "Nope. Not gonna look. Otherwise, I won't be able to stand."

"Are you afraid of heights?"

"It's a fairly reasonable fear, seeing as if I tripped over the edge, I would go tumbling downhill, being slaughtered by tree trunks until my battered body hits the lake below."

"Great, now I have that visual in my head," she mutters.

We continue forward, twigs crunching under our feet as we follow our family.

Remembering the events of this morning, I ask, "So when did you start making that book?"

"Oh, um, about five years ago."

"Do you have everyone you know in there?"

"If I know them by name, I have them in there."

I nod. She must have a lot on all of our friends then. I wonder how much she's noticed that I haven't. It must be fascinating to see the world through her constant analysis.

"I presume you have stuff on all our friends."

She smiles and answers, "Yup. Yours are particularly interesting." She laughs a little to herself. "You all come to the same conclusions in situations, like you share a brain."

"Like when?" I question curiously.

"Like Saturday when you all got upset about that line of motorcycles that passed us while we were walking."

"Because they were blowing exhaust that looked like storm clouds, and they were incredibly loud," I justify.

Hazel keeps smiling, even when I finish my statement and drift into my own thoughts. I'm now very curious about her opinions on one person in particular, but how do I ask about this without giving away too much?

"Do you have anything on Linny?"

Hazel takes an extra second of quiet as she looks between me, the trees, and the soil, before finally saying, her smiling lifting her lips higher, "Of course. She's the most interesting person I know."

"Yes," I mutter, "that's a common perception of her."

Immediately, Hazel shakes her head and clears up the miscommunication. "Not in a science project kind of way," she states. "In the way that, like, looking at a kaleidoscope is interesting, and, like...I guess mesmerizing...but that's still not the right word."

"So what are some things you know about her that I wouldn't know?" I ask.

"I mean, you probably know her better than me, 'cause you're her best friend."

"Yeah, but I'm a bit curious what you know," I reply, cautiously monitoring my choice of words. 

She takes a moment to ponder then says, "Um, well... She hates flavoured water and anything carbonated. She doesn't like feeling like a burden or a hassle, but she definitely feels like she is when she's with people who aren't her close friends. She loves flowing princess dresses, but doesn't like wearing anything with sequins or too much beading. Her favorite star is Altair—"

"She told you that?" I say, surprised.

"She tends to ramble a lot, and she blushes," Hazel explains. "She gets so flustered, because she has a crush on me."

My eyes go wide like two white golfballs as I look at her, trying to recall what I said to give that away, but I don't think I said anything.

"Why do you think that?" I question.

"Brayden, I'm really into psychology. I have a frickin book on everyone. I would have to be pretty oblivious to not notice that."

"Yeah, it is fairly apparent," I admit. I know Hazel's not at fault for this situation, but I still feel sorry for my friend, and I let my eyes fall to the ground as I say, "She's never had a significant crush before. It's a shame her first one is unrequited."

"Why do you assume that?"

Stunned, I whip my eyes up to Hazel who displays a crooked grin. But I don't get the chance to pry into that response, for Wyatt comes up from ahead, holding two ginormous tree branches and interrupts with a question.

"Hazel, which stick do you like better?"

Hazel splits away from me to help Wyatt, leaving me to process her words on my own.

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

Everything's going smoothly until Cyrus trips on a tree root and goes stumbling so fast that his bucket hat flies off his head, getting stuck behind some bushes off the path.

"Oh, no!" he cries.

"Hiking really isn't your thing, huh?" Buffy comments.

Cyrus pouts. "I lost my hat."

"You can still get it," I tell him.

"There's a bug nest there," he points out.

I look at the greyish-brown bulb dangling from the tree above Cyrus's hat.

"It's just a beehive," I respond.

"I think those are wasps," Buffy counters, inspecting the little bugs crawling in and out of the hive.

I shake my head. "No, they're definitely bees."

Trusting me, Cyrus steps toward the bushes, but as soon as one bee exits the hive, he changes his mind and backs up, afraid.

"I've got it," I say.

Declan snug on my back, I head for Cyrus's hat, but when I do, a bunch of bugs escape from the beehive above, and I get a closer look at the angry buzzing creatures. I return back to my wife and friend with my head down.

"They're wasps," I state, and Buffy smirks.

"My bucket hat," Cyrus complains, disappointed.

Thankfully, TJ comes over and wraps his arm around the sad Cyrus to comfort him.

"We'll buy you a new one," TJ says.

All of a sudden, Cara bursts into our pity session, shoving me aside and marching toward the bushes.

"Stand back losers!"

They go right in, and my fear spikes as all the wasps swarm their body, landing and staying on their arms, legs, and head. Yet my child isn't the slightest bit bothered. They stomp up to Cyrus and hand him the bucket hat, wasps remaining latched to Cara's sleeve. Cyrus nervously takes it, then Cara walks back over to Wyatt, the wasps slowly leaving their body. Buffy, Cyrus, TJ, and I all stand in shock.

"I think we raised the terminator," I comment.

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

"Bye, lil lady," Dan says as Jayda and I leave the bar.

She waves to him while I get the door, and once we're out on the sidewalk, she reaffirms our locked hands and saunters alongside me, a dopey grin on her face.

"Wasn't that fun?" she says.

"It was pretty rad."

"We can do anything here." She gasps. "Wanna buy weed?"

I laugh and respond, "I'd be down, but you're already kinda tipsy, so let's save that for tomorrow."

"Oooh, responsible."

I smile at her, having trouble looking anywhere but her and her eyes like the trunks of the trees that scatter the mountains, glowing in her own self-made starlight.

"You're really pretty," she utters.

"I don't think you've ever called me pretty before," I respond.

"Do you want me to take it back?"

I shake my head, grinning. "Nah. I think it's cute."

"Sounds like you've got a crush," she teases and giggles.

"More than a crush. I'm totally in love."

"I really love you too," she replies. Then her head drops heavily on my shoulder. "But I think I need to lie down."

I chuckle and let go of her hand to instead encompass her in my arm, rubbing her shoulder while we head for the hotel.

________________________________________

**Amber's POV**

When we finally reach the end of the trail, the trees break away into a clear cliff with benches and several other amazed hikers all admiring the bright blue horizon framing the Rockies in the distance. Austen hangs on to my mom's hand, gawking at the view. Cara and Wyatt race up to the cliff's edge.

"Now this feels powerful," Wyatt says.

"I concur," Cara joins.

Buffy, concern scribbled on her face, steps up, saying, "Please back up a little bit. I don't want you to fall off the edge."

"Gravity would be bold to take me without my direct consent," Cara retorts.

My mother glances right and left and me and TJ on either side of her, and I instantly know what's coming.

"Do you remember what we do when we get to our destination?" she asks.

Andi looks to me curiously. I release a breath and sit down cross-legged with my mother and brother. Mom holds out her hands, and we take one each. I close my eyes with them and listen to my mother's instructions.

"Breathe in. Breathe out. Good, my darlings. Now let the energy flow into you, through your feet, up to your head. Breathe in. Breathe out. Feel this beautiful earth we're so lucky to inhabit."

I open my eyes when I hear shuffling to my left, and I see my daughter lowering onto her bum to join us.

"Is this a pagan thing?" she wonders.

"It's a your grandma thing," I respond.

The rest of the family begins to find places in our chain of connected hands on the dirt while my mother continues to repeat the same words: "Breathe in. Breathe out."

"Why didn't you make us do flower child stuff like this?" Hazel asks me.

"Because you already have two hippie grandparents," Andi chimes in. "Amber's mom and my dad."

"True," Hazel replies.

My mother lets out one final deep breath before saying, "This was lovely. We should have dinner together too. I can cook. I just determined how to best bake bread properly in my wood-burning oven."

"Why not a regular oven?" TJ questions.

"Oh, honey, that would be feeding into the cult of society and capitalism." My mom stands up and starts back the way we came. "Well, back down now. Shall we?"

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

I'm the first one to reach our rooms in the hotel hallway, which means I get to discover the laughter coming from the Jayda's room. I open up the door to find Jayda and Andreas cuddled together on one of the beds, drinking out of fancy bottles and eating miniature pastries. I fold my arms over my chest as I lean against the wall and look at them.

"What have you two been up to?" I question.

"We can buy alcohol here," Jayda replies cheerfully.

"Legally," Andreas adds.

"Isn't Canada wonderful!" Jayda giggles.

"It's something," I mutter.

Then Jayda picks up a small baked roll, saying, "They have tiny bread too! I feel like a giant."

"Well, this seems fun," I state. "I'll leave you two alone."

I turn around and exit the room, closing the door right as TJ and Cyrus reach it.

"Are Jayda and Andreas in there?" TJ asks.

"Sort of," I reply.

Cyrus furrows his brows. "What does that mean?"

"They're completely sloshed," I explain with a smile then step away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter. I hope you can sense all the fun stuff upcoming. Goodbye!


	160. S4 E11.1: Perspective

**Cyrus's POV**

"Wyatt, do you want juice?"

I spin around with the jug and see my son staring out the window while sitting at the table, his foot bouncing while he stirs his cereal mindlessly.

"Wyatt?" I repeat.

He snaps his head in my direction, saying, "Huh? Oh. No, thanks."

TJ stirs his coffee while leaning against the cabinet doors, not fazed by our son's behaviour, but I'm remembering something that was brought up recently, and I can't get it out of my head.

"What were you looking at?" I ask Wyatt.

"Nothing." He's about to ingest a spoonful of his breakfast when his focus is suddenly stolen elsewhere. "Where's my phone?" He scans the tabletop, not finding it.

"Did you leave it in your room?" I suggest.

"No, I—" He freezes. "The bathroom!"

Wyatt springs out of his chair and bolts upstairs to search for the device, leaving his half-eaten bowl of cereal. With him gone, I turn to face TJ who's casually sipping his coffee.

"Hey," I say, "remember how Hazel said she thinks Wyatt has ADHD?"

Knowing where I'm going immediately, TJ lets out a sigh. "Yeah."

"I didn't learn enough in school to be confident recognizing that, but it might be worth seeing a doctor about."

"I don't know. Is it really necessary? I mean, is it really an issue for him?"

As soon as TJ finishes asking that, Wyatt returns into the kitchen holding a candlestick the length of his forearm.

"When did we get this?" he questions. "Also, can I have it?"

"Did you find your phone?" I wonder.

His eyes go wide as he remembers. "Oh, right!"

Then he whips around and zips back to the staircase. As I look back to TJ, I notice him taking something out of the cutlery drawer. Wyatt's cell phone gleams as TJ places it on the counter.

"I'll make the appointment," TJ mutters.

________________________________________

**Braydon's POV**

Students flow in from outside, clogging the hallways as everyone tries to gather their things from their lockers. Kelsey and Linny surround mine at the moment, Kelsey explaining the events of her sister's baby shower that took place over the weekend.

"And then we played this game where we try to pass around a watermelon covered in baby oil, and try not to drop it."

Linny stares at Kelsey in confusion until eventually checking, "This was a baby shower?"

All of a sudden, Linny's eyes are swept away by the sight of my cousin coming toward us, her hair clipped back on one side with a large pearl barrette. I swear Linny has the same one. _Wait—_

"Hey," Hazel says.

She says it to all of us, but her eyes quickly settle on Linny who mirrors her smile. Hazel has yet to explain anything more to me since our conversation on the mountain, and she's actively avoided giving me any opportunity to interrogate her. But even just the eyes of these two girls releases enough gay radiation to cause queer cancer.

"Hey," Kelsey says, "we're going to The Spoon later. Do you and the others wanna join?"

Hazel looks away from Linny to reply, "I'll ask them. Um, I can't, because I have an art project I need to finish...and start. I really have no idea what to do for it."

"What's the assignment?" Linny wonders.

"Sculpture. Any form."

"What about, like, clay?" she recommends.

"See, I can't work on it at school, since I won't have time, and you'd think with a mom who's a sculptor, I'd have clay around, but no. Instead we just have piles of garbage, old bottle caps, and plastic spoons."

"Well, I have some air-dry clay."

Hazel looks at Linny hopefully. "Would you be willing to give me some?"

"Sure. I can come over after school and bring it."

"That would be awesome."

Their plan set, they both stop talking, but I can see the gears still turning in their heads, showing that neither has said everything they intend to yet.

"I could probably use the help if you wanted to stay for a bit too," Hazel then suggests. "If you're not already busy tonight."

"I am not," Linny chirps.

"Cool, so two not coming to The Spoon," Kelsey mutters.

Both Hazel and Linny turn their heads to Kelsey, hesitant to respond.

Linny stutters as she says, "Oh, uh—"

"No, it's fine," Kelsey cuts her off.

Linny smiles and looks back to Hazel again, but the bell rings almost immediately, and the two sapphics have to split.

"Cool, I'll see you later then," Hazel says.

"Yeah."

Linny watches Hazel as she steps away, pausing for a brief second to look back quickly and smile before disappearing around the corner. Grinning wide, Linny returns facing Kelsey and I, the two of us giving our friend skeptical looks.

"What?" Linny asks.

"Nothing," I reply. "Just processing this."

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

The cabinet door squeaks as Walker grabs a packet of oatmeal. Orange juice sloshes in my cup as I swig it back. Soon, our daughter comes running into the kitchen dressed in her princess Tiana dress and crown with a beaming smile.

"Look at me!" she says as she giggles.

She does a twirl, almost tipping over, but Walker manages to catch her with one hand and position her upright again.

"I princess!" she squeaks.

"Is the princess going somewhere special today?" I ask, playing along.

"I meeting my baby brother."

Suddenly, my attention switches to Walker, worried I might be missing something huge.

Before common sense catches up, I ask, "You pregnant?"

He shakes his head and kneels down to our daughter's height.

"What baby brother are you talking about?" Walker asks her.

"The one we're getting today," she replies.

Walker glances up at me, just as puzzled, then back to Austen. "Austen, we're not getting a baby."

"But you said so."

"When did we say that?" I question.

She takes her time to think, her face going blank. Eventually, she remembers and says, "When I was sleeping."

"Was it a dream?" Walker asks curiously.

"Yeah."

Walker lets out a breath and explains, "Austen, dreams aren't real life. They're your imagination."

The little girl's smile turns to a frown as she says, "Oh. Then I change."

She whirls out of the kitchen, leaving Walker and I still a little thrown off.

"That was interesting," Walker utters.

"Yeah."

We both remain quiet for a moment, and I can hear a bird whistling outside.

"You want oatmeal?" Walker finally asks.

"Sure."

________________________________________

**Cyrus's POV**

When I get home from work, TJ greets me with a kiss at the door.

"Is Wyatt home yet?" I ask.

"Yeah, he's in the kitchen," TJ replies.

I nod and leave my coat and bag at the entryway to go into the kitchen. There, Wyatt is folding a sheet of lined paper into what looks like just a crumpled ball, his school books spread out in front of him on the table.

"Wyatt."

He looks up instantaneously.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Making an origami turtle."

"Okay, well, um, you're not busy tonight, right?"

"I don't think so."

"Good. Becayse, um, we're gonna go to a doctor—"

"Is this to find out if I have ADHD?"

His questions takes me by surprise. I guess I just wasn't expecting him to know or have thought about this. I don't think TJ's told him already. TJ's own surprise shows he hasn't.

"Yeah," I answer.

"Good," my son says with a breath. "I've been meaning to ask you guys about that, but I didn't know how. After Hazel mentioned it, I started googling it. I also found out that people in the UK call housecoats dressing gowns, which seems weird, 'cause they're not gowns, but I guess British people are wack."

"Uh, okay, cool," TJ says after a moment of us figuring out which parts of that sentence were important. "I'll get my keys, and we can go."

"Just let me finish my math problem first," Wyatt says.

He quickly scribbles a number and gets up. Curious, I walk over to check it. It's five thirds multiplied by seven fourths.

"Wyatt, it's not possible for that to be a negative number," I tell him.

"Really? Well, if they're never the answer, then why do negative numbers even exist?"


	161. S4 E11.2: Perspective

**Hazel's POV**

When I hear the doorbell ring, Momma gets up from the kitchen table where she was sitting with my other mom.

"I can get it," she says.

I launch up instantly from the living room couch, saying, "No! I'll get it!"

I cut my mother off as I zip past her to get the door. I pull it open so fast that I almost scrape my own foot, but I manage to shift out of the way in time. On the porch, Linny looks up at me and smiles, her hands struggling to hold the three bags of air-dry clay that she has with her. A strap slips from her fingers each time she attempts to grab another.

"Want some help?" I offer.

"I'm fine. I just need to adjust—"

All of a sudden, gravity steals one bag from her entirely, but I lean over, catching the handles before it can hit the porch. Of course, Linny tries to save it herself, causing our hands to collide, and a flitter of butterflies encapsulate me as I lift the bag to carry it myself, Linny's hand letting go, struck limp from the contact.

"Thanks," she says in a voice like a feather.

After another moment, I remember what's supposed to be happening, and I step back inside, glancing over my shoulder to say, "You can come in."

"Oh, right, yeah, thanks."

She enters in, and I close the door behind her. Right away, she notices my moms at the kitchen table and gives them a wave.

"Hi."

"Hi, Linny," Mommy responds. "Did you cut your hair?"

"Only a couple inches, but thanks for noticing."

Obviously, I noticed, but I was nervous to bring it up earlier. I still don't know if that would've been considered weird or not. My brain doesn't function too well with her. And that's kinda strange to think about, because it wasn't until the dance when I started thinking of Linny that way, but it's like someone flipped a switch, and suddenly here we are with my burning cheeks and her galaxy blue eyes. 

"It looks nice," I tell her. 

"You too. I mean, nothing changed, but you're still..." she takes a breath, clearly lost on her sentence "...nice. I'll bring this to your studio."

She takes the bag from my grip and transports all three down the hall to my mom's art studio. I follow her in and let the door close, sealing our own little bubble of colourful creations that fill the space. Linny carefully sets the bags on the floor and is immediately drawn in by the sculpture my mom is currently in the process of making. It's a large circle made of coloured silverware, with holes spying through it in several spots.

"Woah," Linny breathes. "This is glorious. And the colours are iridescent."

"My mom's working on that," I explain. "I'm still trying to figure out what it's going to be."

"Mayhap it's not intended to be anything, but it's for your imagination to decide."

"Well, currently, my imagination sees a spaghetti strainer."

Linny gives me a curious look as a smile breaks through her lips, and she says, "That's not what I was seeing, but it's certainly a creative perspective."

"What were you seeing?"

"I see..." she pauses to ponder it "...a radiant sun, spread through a galaxy, warped by the energy of the outer space."

"That's...better than a spaghetti strainer."

She glances over at me, making her blonde hair bend and fold over her shoulder like cattails pushed by a river, responding, "Better is an undefinable adjective we attempt to define by assigning it, but really better only exists in our own individual eyes. It's not actually real. The word itself is fairly meaningless."

The statement leaves me without words, mostly because I've never heard anyone talk like that before. I've also never considered her perspective.

"Whatever it is," Linny goes on, "it is very pretty. I suppose, in that sense, it's much like you."

She might as well have set me on fire with how hot my face goes.

After a moment, she asks, "Was that too frank?"

"No, not at all," I reply faster than I can even breathe. "I—um... I'm not very good at clay."

That's not what I was intending to say, but I can't exactly piece together what I want to get across. It's like trying to search for a rainbow's beginning.

"I can help you," Linny responds. "That is what I came here for, after all."

"Of course. Perfect. Yeah."

She smiles at me, and I realize I'm already doing the same.

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

"One fish, two fish, red fish—"

"Why are the fish blue?" Austen squeaks, interrupting the story. "Are they police fish?"

She sits on my lap on the living room couch, with my arms around her like a seatbelt, holding the book for her to see.

"Sure, they're police fish," I reply.

Before I start reading again, the front doorknob jiggles, and Jonah enters in, moving at a pace similar to an excited puppy.

"How was guitar lessons?" I ask.

"Good. I had an idea."

He whizzes around the couch, stopping when Austen grabs the book from my hands and holds it up at his face.

"Story?" she says.

"Not a story," Jonah replies. "Real life."

"Ooooh."

"What are you thinking about?" I wonder.

"Come to the kitchen for a minute."

I get Austen to scoot off my lap and onto the couch where she stays fidgeting with the book while I follow Jonah around the wall into the kitchen.

"I've been thinking about what Austen said about a baby brother," he begins.

"Are you thinking we should have another baby?"

Although we haven't talked about that at all, I wouldn't be instantly opposed to the idea. But Jonah shuts that down.

"Not quite. A new house."

I tilt my head in confusion, trying to understand the connection, but I can't seem to figure it out.

"A new house?" I echo.

"Yes. We've been wanting to get a bigger house for years, and now we have the money, and if in the future we did want another baby, we'd need another room. Plus you could have a better studio, and I could have a big music room."

"I'm in."

"Yeah? Yes!" He makes a fist, shaking it in excitement.

Suddenly, Austen comes scurrying into the kitchen with a smile and shouts, "New house! New house! New house!"

She continues chanting while she twirls on her toes and jumps around.

Jonah and I both look to the open space that leads into the hallway and eventually to the living room.

"I forgot there wasn't a door there," Jonah mutters.

________________________________________

**Andreas's POV**

_Clink!_ I whip my head up from my desk and spin around to look at the window, wondering what just hit it. Soon, another pebble pounds the glass, and I get up and go over to spot Jayda standing on the grass of my backyard. I lift open the window and lean out.

"Hey, what's up?" I call down to her.

She's got a grin on her face wider than I've ever seen before. Suddenly, my mom comes out onto the deck and looks at Jayda in confusion.

"Jayda, you know we have a front door," she says.

"I couldn't wait," my girlfriend replies. "Andreas, check the mail!"

"We still get mail?" I respond.

"Check it!"

"Alright, one sec."

I grab my keys from my dresser and climb out my window onto the roof. My shoes grip firmly onto each of the shingles getting me to the edge where I swing down by my hands and let go, landing on my back deck.

"Why do we even bother having a door?" my mom mumbles and goes back inside.

Jayda waves eagerly for me to come, and as soon as I get down the deck steps, she grabs my hand and pulls me around through the gate to the front sidewalk, squealing the whole time. While trying to keep up, I notice an envelope in her other hand.

"What's that?" I ask.

"No. Can't tell you until you have yours!"

She drags me down the block to the community mailboxes where she stops and whirls around behind me to stand, squeezing my shoulders in anticipation while I attempt to unlock my mailbox.

"Oh my gosh, Drey. you're so slow," she complains.

"If you'd stop shaking me, I might be able to get the key in."

She instantly lets me go, saying, "Sorry."

With my hand now steady, I fit the key in the slot and twist it, revealing a single envelope. I take it out and read the return address to see who it's from.

"University of Shadyside," I say.

"Yeah."

"So this is our futures."

Jayda's smile drops with those five words. "Well, now I'm scared to open it."

Her eyes cling to her own letter, contemplating silently with a frown.

"You didn't think about that?" I say.

"No!" she shouts, her excitement replaced by anxiety. "I was thinking about joining a sorority!"

She looks at her envelope again.

After a minute, I ask, "Do you want to open them?"

"Not anymore!"


	162. S4 E11.3: Perspective

**Hazel's POV**

I've never used air-dry clay before but it's fairly easy. The grey stretches as I drag my fingers along it, moulding it into the shape of a hand with its palm open. I didn't really have an inspiration for this. I just needed to make something, and this is the first thing I thought of. I couldn't do much thinking anyway with Linny beside me. Her eyes flutter as she watches me shape my sculpture, her hair laced through a series of butterfly clips and my pearl barrette to keep it out of her face.

"You might need a bit more water," she suddenly says.

She dips her fingers into the bowl of water and transfers the droplets onto my sculpture, letting her fingertips glide against mine on the clay. Startled, I look up at her, our eyes connecting like magnets. After a second, we manage to divide our gazes, and she pulls her hand back to herself.

"Sorry," she utters.

"For what?"

"I feel like I'm taking over your art project."

With a smile, I shake my head. "Don't worry about that. You aren't."

"Good." She remains quiet for an extra moment, observing my work, before adding, "Then might I suggest, when it's dry of course..." She selects a tube of pearly white paint and brings it over for me to see.

"I expected you to go for, like, the lilac or another pastel," I respond.

"Those are fine, but this would make it look like a renaissance marble masterpiece that'd you'd see in a museum."

I smile, my attention slowly shifting from my artwork to my friend as I say, "So how did you get into that stuff? Like, renaissance, medeival, all that."

"I don't remember an exact moment," she replies. "I do remember loving princess stories when I was little. And when I found out princesses were real, unlike fairies or dragons, I was ecstatic." She giggles a little as she reminisces. "I used to wear a hennin to school every day in elementary, and I'd get upset when the teachers asked me to take it off. Eventually, they let me wear it, but I had to sit at the back of the class, because it blocked the other kids' view of the front."

"Sounds like a wonderful fashion choice. I would adore it," I say with a grin. "I wish I had the confidence to do that when I was little. But I already stood out enough."

"I suppose we have that in common," her delicate voice speaks.

"I assume it was tough for you," I say.

"Tough, yes. And confusing. I didn't really understand why people didn't like me."

"Because they were stupid," I mutter, which makes Linny look up at me, her shimmering eyes making my chest flitter. "Any smart person would be able to see that you're absolutely...iridescent."

She raises an eyebrow at that. "Are you sure you're using that word correctly?

"Yes."

My certainty causes her to smile, and she looks down at her hands before returning her eyes to me and wonders, "Did you ever feel out of place?" Right when I'm about to speak, she cuts in, muttering, "That's a dumb question. Of course you did."

"Yeah, I did," I answer anyway. "And I knew who I was, but nobody else did. But I found my friends and stuck with them."

"Same. Before Brayden and Kelsey, I didn't really have any friends, because honestly most neurotypical people overcomplicate everything beyond what it needs to be."

I let out a laugh. "Can't argue with you there. There are a lot of norms that don't really make sense. Like gender norms."

"Ugh. Don't get me started about those."

Both of us laugh until it fades, and the quiet becomes louder than a hailstorm, the thunder of my shaking pulse swarming my head as her eyes wander my face. Pretty soon, I can hear both of us breathing, and Linny's lips form my name.

"Hazel...how mad would you be if I kissed you right now?"

Before I can say anything at all, her cell phone jingles, and she checks the notification, our moment of tension dying by the gunshot of a text.

"I have to leave," she suddenly says.

"Is everything okay?"

"Apparently I was supposed to babysit my little brother."

She keeps her sight on me for another second before taking a breath and stepping past me to grab her purse and strap it over her shoulder, leaving the rest of the bags of clay on the floor.

"Bye, Hazel."

She disappears into the hallway, her footsteps melding with my rattling brain. That's when it hits me. _She wanted to kiss me. And now she's leaving. Shit!_

I wipe my hands clean of clay on the nearest rag and bolt out of the studio, jetting past my moms in the kitchen.

Momma tries to speak, "What are you—?"

"Not now, Mom! I have to kiss a girl!"

I stuff my feet into my shoes and whip open the front door, getting hit by a whoosh of cool air. Linny is just stepping onto the sidewalk and headed for the bus stop.

"Linny!"

The girl spins around, taken aback by my presense as I run up to her. As soon as I get to about a metre away, the nerves swirl inside me, and I suddenly can't speak properly. Linny waits for me to talk, but I can no longer find the words.

"I—I can drive you home," is all I manage to get out.

"Oh. Okay. Thanks."

We both remain still, neither quite done yet. Finally, the sun settles low enough in the sky to where its light begins to twinkle on Linny's blonde hair, painting her in stardust that slowly unfurls as the sky deepens. All of a sudden, my heart pushes a breath into my lungs.

"One more thing," I state.

She raises her eyebrows curiously. "Oh?"

I slice the tension with a step in, take her cheek in my palm, and kiss her. The twinkling light transforms into a sparkling sensation that curls my skin and tangles my muscles, lacing me further into her with every moment we conquer.

Eventually, I drift back and open my eyes, seeing hers staring wide at me.

Soon, she starts to utter, "Uh..." Lost for words, she pauses and takes a breath, letting it out as she says, "Yeah."

"Yeah," I echo back. We both stare at each other for a bit longer until I finally say, "Uh, I'll grab my car keys."

"Okay."

I turn around, my hands shaking as I head into the house. As soon as I close the door, a huge squeal escapes my mouth, and I fall back on the living room couch.

"I'm guessing you kissed her?" Mommy says.

Unable to vocalize anything at this point, I scream in excitement, giving my moms their answer.

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

Andreas leans against the armrest on the other end of the sofa from me while I sit cross-legged with my envelope in my lap, still contemplating what to do. My house is quiet, since we're the only ones here. I don't actually know where my dads and brother are, but I don't have the brain space to care at the moment.

"So you ready to open them?" Andreas asks.

"You can open yours."

Andreas tilts his head, looking harder at me, but I don't say anything. Seeing that I'm not gonna change my mind, he sighs and rips his envelope open, pulling out the paper. As he reads it, he ends up smiling.

"You got in?" I guess.

"Yup. I've been accepted."

"Cool. So if I don't get in, I'm gonna cry."

I stare at my own envelope, imagining the worst possible scenario. I don't get in. Andreas goes off to college without me. He has too much homework to think about me. Meets some other girl. And I never move out of my dads' house.

Andreas scoots closer to me on the couch and places his hand over mine.

"Just open it," he whispers.

"Andreas, this is the only school I applied to. What if I don't get in?"

"Then you take a gap year."

"And have to work my sticky minimum wage job full time?"

"Jayda, stop," he says with a breath. ""Just open it."

"I'm scared."

"Then I'll do it for you."

He takes the envelope from my hands and rips the top open. As I watch him take out the paper, my anxiety spikes, and I reach out to snatch it back.

"No! Stop! I'll do it!"

I unfold the page and suck in a breath, only letting it out when I read the first line. I fall back on the couch in relief.

"Oh, thank God!" I breathe.

Andreas chuckles a little as he watches my reaction. A second later, the front door flings open, and my dads enter in with my brother. I sprout upright again to face them.

"Guess what! I got into university!"

Both my dads take a moment to just gawk at the news before my Papa eventually says, "Are you sure?" Daddy shoots him a glare, to which Papa whispers, "I'm just checking."

"Yes," I confirm.

Then Wyatt interrupts to mutter, "I'm gonna go to my room," and he dashes up the stairs.

"Now I just need to figure out what to major in," I say.

"Well, I'm sure you'll pick something you like," Daddy replies.

I look over to Andreas again who mirrors my smile right back to me.

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

The wrinkles in my bed quilt create a feeling of mountains and valleys under my legs while I try to read my comic book, but I haven't even gotten past the fifth page. Every time I read a frame, I realize I didn't actually read it, and I have to backtrack. I can't stop thinking about everything today, and because of that, I only think about it more, and I'll never know what happens to goddamn Aquaman!

Annoyed, I toss my book down on my pillow with a groan. My sister's image flashes past my doorway, getting my attention and pulling me up from lying down. I don't talk to her that often, so I don't know why I'd start now. But maybe I'll start now anyway.

I travel down the hallway to the next door and poke my head in. I stand there for a minute before she even looks up from her phone and acknowledges my existence.

"Are you lost?" she asks.

"Kay, whatever," I grumble.

I start to go, but Jayda leans forward on her bed, saying, "I'm just teasing you. What's up?"

I step all the way into her room and close the door, even though there's nothing top secret to exchange. I just kind of want to only talk to her.

"Did dads tell you about me?" I ask.

"That you were adopted? Yeah, I figured that out."

She laughs, but my mind is too clogged with thoughts to laugh with her.

"I have ADHD," I say.

"Oh." She goes quiet for a moment. "You got diagnosed?"

I nod.

"Cool," she responds calmly. "How do you feel?"

I let out a heavy breath. "Relieved."

She squints curiously at me, looking for more of an explanation.

"Now I understand why I'm like this. And I'm gonna get medication. I'm kinda scared. But I guess it'll be fine."

"You'll be perfectly fine," she assures me. "My little brother is nothing if not brave. You scaled the underside of a bridge over a river without thinking twice. You'll be fine with this."

"Did I tell you about that?" I question.

"You posted it on your Instapic."

"Oh." I pause. "Don't tell dads."

"I won't, but don't die, or I'll get in trouble."

She laughs, and this time, I can too.

"You got into university?" I ask, remembering her earlier news that I didn't stay to talk about.

She nods, and I take a minute to understand what that means. She waits patiently for me to do that, not even glancing at her phone.

"I'm gonna miss you," I say.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not living on campus," she says, making my statement pointless, "so you'll have me to bug you everyday while you're in high school."

"Man, I assumed you were leaving," I complain. "If I knew you weren't, I wouldn't have said that."

She rolls her eyes and grins. "Too late. I know you love me."

I don't respond, but I smile, and that's enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever. I've have trouble focusing recently. Also, there's only 3 more episodes left of the series. I love you all, and I hope you'll be excited for these last ones. I know a few of you are gonna be especially happy.


	163. S4 E12.1: Awkward Exchange

**Hazel's POV**

The other students zip past me in the hallway like air bubbles escaping a fish tank. I, the fish, dodge them all with the intention of getting to my last class without a single interruption. The plan quickly goes awry the instant I see another body about to clash with me head on. I manage to stop just in time, but from this close, my voice catches in my throat as I stare at Linny. 

Simultaneously, we both say, "Sorry."

Her hands readjust their grip on her books that she hugs tight to her chest, and I try to find something good to say. 

"Hey," is all I manage.

She smiles back, responding, "Hey."

A moment of clinging eyes and rabbit-paced breathing, and then I speak again.

"So, um..."

"Yeah."

"Yeah. Cool. Uh, okay."

"Okay."

I hesitate another second before stepping right, and she steps to her right, passing by me without any more exchange of words. 

________________________________________

**Walker's POV**

The realtor explains the listing while Jonah, Austen, and I enter the living space.

"This is exactly what you're looking for. It has four bedrooms, one of which can be your music room, three bathrooms, plus a basement that you can make your art studio. The previous owners had the necessary ventilation installed."

The pale floors brighten up the large room, while golden yellow curtains tint the sunlight shining in. Austen immediately flocks to the bouncy blue sofa, petting the fluffy pillows atop it. Then she notices another showpiece across the living room.

"Horsey!" she blurts and runs over to climb on the rocking horse. 

"It sounds perfect," I say to Jonah.

"But it's so far away from our friends," he mentions. 

"Neighhh!" our daughter hollers in the background. 

"Well, when you suggested we move, that was inevitable," I remind my husband.

He frowns and mutters, "I guess."

"Take a look around, and let me know if you have any questions," Surge the realtor says.

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

My head lands heavy on my pillow, and I let out a sigh like a chinook wind. 

"Explain the situation to me again," Darius requests.

He sits on my spinny desk chair with on leg up. Meanwhile, Fatima is perched gracefully on the end of my bed, and Aimée is sprawled out on the floor, attempting to crack a four-year-old glow stick again. 

"I kissed her," I state.

"Sounds gay," Aimée remarks. 

"Isn't she pan?" Darius mumbles.

"She wanted to kiss me," I go on. 

"You're right," Darius comments to Aimée. "Very gay."

"And I drove her home, and she didn't say much, and I was too broken to say anything useful, and we didn't say what we were now, and I still don't know, because every time I see her, I get all..."

Aimée raises her eyebrows. "Gay?"

"Exactly what I was gonna say," Darius chimes in. 

"Great minds think alike," Aimée responds.

Ignoring our friends, Fatima gives actual advice, saying, "Just tell her you want to be your girlfriend. It's not like she's your first one. You weren't near this nervous with Sarah."

"Because Sarah was hella forward and direct. She knew I liked her, and she milked that whenever she could. Linny's... Linny's not like Sarah."

"No, she's not," Fatima agrees. "Personally, I think that's a good thing."

She's right. Even when I was with Sarah, my friends didn't especially like her. Perhaps that was a red flag I should've paid attention to.

I let out a sigh and groan, "Agh, I don't know what to do!"

"Hazel," Fatima says, "You just—"

**Brayden's POV**

"Tell her you want to be her significant other," Kelsey instructs. 

Although Linny is listening, you would guess she isn't by the way she's rolling a baby tater around in the basket, her eyes down on the table. The Spoon is nearly empty, only two other tables occupied currently. On the bright side, that means the service is quick. 

"I couldn't even tell the server I wanted extra ketchup with my baby taters," Linny counters. 

"Linny," I join in, "you know she likes you."

"I know she kissed me," she corrects. "She never said she likes me."

"Linny, people don't usually kiss people unless they're into them at least a little bit," Kelsey reasons. 

Linny flicks her eyes from Kelsey then to me then back to Kelsey before finally saying, "I'm gonna get more baby taters. 

She's about to raise her hand, but then she shies down and looks at me. I know the cue and raise my hand for her, saying, "Excuse me!"

Our server comes over, her magenta braid swinging behind her back like a rope, and gets her pen and paper out. 

"Can we get more baby taters please?" I ask. 

"Getting as much as you can before we close for good, eh?" the server responds. "Smart."

She scribbles the order on her notepad, my and my two friends are more focused on her comment. 

"Wait, close?" Kelsey repeats. 

"Yeah. We're shutting down in mid-June," she explains. "Costs are too high to keep up with."

She steps away to get our food, leaving the three of us in disappointment. 

"As if I didn't have enough troubles already," Linny huffs. 

Kelsey rolls her eyes and replies, "Linny, kissing your crush is not a trouble. Stop being dramatic."

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

When I come into the kitchen, Cyrus and Wyatt are already there, while Jayda is probably still in her room. 

"Want breakfast?" Cyrus asks. 

He hands me a vegan breakfast sandwich that he made for me on a plate, and I give him a kiss. 

"Thanks," I reply. "I'm short on time this morning."

"I know. You take forever to do your hair."

Wyatt grabs his hoodie off his chair and flings it over his shoulder as he gets up from the table and comes over to me, saying, "Well, I'm ready to go."

"We don't have to leave for school quite yet," Cyrus responds, a tad confused. 

"I'm not going to school. It's take your kid to work day. Everybody in my grade has the day off to go to work with their parents."

"You didn't tell me about this," I say. 

"Really? Well, either way, I'm ready to go."

I glance at my husband then back to Wyatt, responding, "Uh, okay. Guess you'll get to see the life of a firefighter for a day. Gonna help some people."

"Is he even allowed to come on 911 calls?" Cyrus wonders. 

I shrug. "Gabriel brought his parrot once, so Wyatt's probably fine."

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Walker, Austen, and I return to the kitchen of the mansion we just viewed. Austen is mesmerized by the opal tiles, tracing the rainbow lines with her finger. Bamboo blinds stripe the house in shade, and the solid gold faucets gleam back the sun. 

"That was the last bowling alley," the realtor says. "What do you think?"

"I don't know," I answer. 

Walker looks at me in surprise then tells Surge, "Give us a minute."

Surge gives us our privacy, and Walker turns to face me. 

"We don't have to move," Walker says. 

"I want to move," I assure him, "but this is just so far."

"Jonah, it's a hundred thousand under our budget, has everything we want plus three bowling alleys, a home theatre, and an indoor pool—"

"Ball pit!" Austen shouts. 

"And that," Walker confirms. 

"I know, but it doesn't have our friends," I reply. 

"Okay," Walker says in a breath. "We'll keep looking."


	164. S4 E12.2: Awkward Exchange

**Wyatt's POV**

When I enter the fire station with my dad, his coworkers come around the big red trucks to greet us. Aneeka looks down at me, being one of the only people here still over a foot taller than me, and smiles. 

"Hey, how you doing, bud?" she asks.

"Good. I'm ready to see some fires. Maybe a whole building will burn down!"

Aneeka glances to my dad who explains, "It's bring your kid to work day, and he wanted to come with me."

"Your other dad's job doesn't interest you as much?" she says. 

"I already have to listen to one dramatic teenager all day," I justify. "Why would I want to hear more?"

While my dad heads to the back of the station to put his things away and get ready to start his shift, I look at the firetrucks, seeing Luca, another one of Dad's coworkers, checking the tires, the rims of which are shiny red. 

"Nice rims," I comment.

"You into cars?" Luca wonders. 

"A little bit. Can't drive them yet, though. Not legally, at least."

Suddenly, the fire bell rings, and everyone in the station floods toward the trucks, climbing in. My dad rounds my location and waves me on.

"You ready?" he asks. 

"Let's go!" I shout and follow him up into the truck.

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Walker steers while I look out the passenger side window, our daughter in the back. We spent the day looking at houses, but we haven't found one that works. Walker's loved almost all of them, but none feel right to me.

"How are you, Austen?" I ask.

She crosses her arms angrily and replies, "I frustrated."

"What? Why?"

"I want ball pit!"

Walker glances over at me while taking a turn down another street, and I let out a sigh. 

"What neighbourhood are you wanting to be in?" Walker asks me. 

I turn my eyes back out the window, scanning the tree-shaded homes of the suburbs.

"Somewhere not as far away," I answer.

That's when I see a for sale sign hanging from a stand on a lawn, and I light up. 

"Pull over!" I shout.

Walker doesn't question my command. He steers to the right and parks at the curb in front of the house. 

"This is the house," I say. 

Walker leans over to get a clearer view. "The one right next to TJ and Cyrus?"

I grin.

"Alright," Walker says. "Let's make an offer."

"We haven't seen it yet!" Austen squeaks from the backseat. 

"I don't need to see it," I reply. "I can feel it."

Taking our daughter's side, Walker says, "Let's take a quick peak inside anyway."

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

The house isn't engulfed in fire. Kind of a bummer. But everyone rushes out of the truck anyway. I jump down onto the lawn and try to search for the blaze. 

"Where's the fire?" I question.

"There isn't one," Aneeka replies.

"Then why are we here?"

I follow the first responders toward the back gate of the house, but I can't even see through before my dad peeks in, gets a shocked look, and blocks me.

"Wyatt, wait out front," he orders.

"I can handle it," I argue.

"Listen to your dad, kid," Aneeka says. 

"Fine," I huff.

I spin around and trudge back toward to the brown porch steps of the house. There, I plop down, putting my chin on my fists, annoyed that I'm missing all the action. I don't know what's happening back there, but I've seen enough zombie movies. I think I'll be fine with a normal person bleeding. 

After a while, I hear footsteps mixed with sniffling, and I look over to see a boy a bit younger than me sitting down on the stairs beside me. Tears coat his face like icing, and he has blood on his clothes and in his hair, but he looks unharmed. 

"You okay?" I ask after a minute. 

He shakes his head. "My dad's gonna die. And it's my fault. I thought I could drive the lawnmower, but I—I should've listened to him."

He breaks into a hundred more tears, while I sit here trying to remember what I've learned about sympathy. 

"Hey, it'll be okay."

"You don't know that," he cries.

"My dad's one of the guys helping him, and he's really good at his job."

The boy's crying weakens a little as he looks at me, but he's not convinced yet. Thankfully, Aneeka comes up to us pretty soon, and behind her, the boy's dad is wheeled on a stretcher toward the back of the ambulance. 

"Is he alive?" the boy asks.

"He's gonna be fine," Aneeka confirms with a kind smile. "We're just gonna take him to the hospital. Are you home alone?"

He shakes his head. "My older sister's here too. She's 19."

"Okay, well, you can meet us over there, okay?"

The boy nods, and Aneeka heads off to help the rest of the EMTs. 

"I told you so," I say.

Rather than get mad at me, the boy gives me a smile, just glad his dad is alive. And that's all thanks to my dad and the others who helped him. What's wild is this is normal, everyday stuff for my dad. He saves people every single day. I wanna do that someday. 

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

As soon as Linny gets to my locker at lunchtime, she makes a proposition. "Hey, why don't we go to The Spoon for lunch today?"

Kelsey instantly sees through it. "You haven't talked to Hazel yet, have you?"

Linny takes a moment of silence before responding, "Even if that weren't true, I would still ask—"

"No, you wouldn't," Kelsey denies. 

"Can you just let be awkward?" the girl whines. 

"Linny," I say, "just talk to her. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"That's not true. There are many things to be afraid of, although none of them pertain to this situation."

Kelsey shakes her head. "Grab your lunch bag."

**Hazel's POV**

Fatima sits down next to me on the floor of the basement, while Aimée and Darius take the other end. Once settled criss-cross, Fatima looks at me. 

"Linny?"

"What about her?" I ask. 

"You're nervous to talk to her?" she guesses. 

"How did you get that?"

"Your hand is covered in pen drawings, which you only do when you're stressed."

"Wait, you aren't official yet?" Aimée cuts in and snorts a laugh. "This will be a fun lunch."

The second she finishes her sentence, Brayden comes up, greets us, and takes a seat, followed by Kelsey, and finally Linny. Linny attempts to go to the outside end of the oval, but Kelsey pushes her back to the centre, the spot right in front of me. Slowly, Linny lowers onto the floor and places her lunch down. Her eyes stick to mine the whole time, raising my heart rate.

"Hey," I say. 

"Hey," she responds. 

The pressure of all our friends watching us squeezes the air tight, but I do my best to ignore it.

"You free tonight?" I ask. 

She nods. 

"Cool. I'll pick you up from your house."

"Okay."

She smiles, and I smile, and our friend group appears satisfied as they begin eating their lunches.

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Cara's room has recently been divided to allow space for Declan's crib and his belongings. Cara wasn't so pleased with the arrangement, but their brothers share a room, so they can too. When I enter their doorway to get them, they're in the middle of reading a book with a dragon on the cover. 

"Time to go," I announce. 

"How about we maybe not?" they counter. 

"Cara, you're always like this whenever you have to go somewhere new that you're unsure about, and it's almost always proven pointless," I argue, "because it's never as bad as you think."

"I'm getting braces!" they shout. "I'm gonna get wire glued to my teeth! You might as well slap the titanic in my mouth and call me a cyborg!"

"That doesn't make any sense. Just come on."

They unleash a huge groan and stand up.


	165. S4 E12.3: Awkward Exchange

**Hazel's POV**

There's a few seconds after I ring the doorbell that I use to stress about if I'm at the wrong house, but that thought ends when the door floats open, and Linny is unveiled, wearing a rose gold dress with white flowers on it and a white cardigan that I think she probably knitted herself. I lose my breath for a moment while looking at her, enchanted by the way her skin sparkles, and I realize she has faint freckles on her nose. 

"Is it too much?" she asks, glancing down at her dress. 

I immediately shake my head. "No, it's definitely not. It's... I'm sorry. Apparently, I don't know how to talk around you."

That makes her blush and smile as she replies, "The feeling is mutual."

We stare at each other like the moon and the sun, linked together by some strange force.

Eventually, I remember myself and speak, "Uh, come with me."

I wave for Linny to follow, and she steps down her porch, her ballet flats clacking on the wood. 

"Where are we going?" she asks. 

"Somewhere special."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

The minute Marty, Cara, and I step into the orthodontist's office, a woman in a lab coat and scrubs calls my child's name. 

"Cara Driscoll?"

Cara spins around immediately to head back for the door, saying, "Not me. Can we leave?"

I take Cara's shoulders and turn them back around, replying, "It's not that hard. Would you rather get braces when you're a teenager?"

"That's when the peer pressure to be perfect is the worst," Marty adds on. 

"Um, nobody pressures me, thank you," they snap back. "Why do I need braces? God gave me these teeth! Why are you trying to mess 'em up?"

"Cara, you grind your teeth at night, because they don't fit together properly."

"And once they're ground enough, they'll fit together! I don't see the problem!"

I let out an exasperated sigh and step back, muttering, "I can't deal with this."

Marty takes my place, going up to Cara to say, "Cara, what will get you to agree to get braces?"

Without hesitation, they answer, "A sword."

"Deal."

They shake hands, and my jaw drops, shocked that my husband just agreed to that. 

But Cara is satisfied and goes over to the orthodontist while popping their knuckles and saying, "Alright, let's get this over with. I apologize in advance if I bite your hand off."

________________________________________

**Hazel's POV**

Linny looks out the window at the flowering trees as I put the engine to sleep. Pastel petals and baby green buds cover the branches of the forest to our right. My car sits silent on the edge of this side road that points out of town. 

"Where are we?" she questions. 

Rather than answer upfront, I pull my purse over my shoulder, get out of the car, and go over to get her door, withholding the secret a little longer. I hold out my palm for Linny to take as she climbs out of the passenger side, and I get a swirl of butterflies when she does. Carefully, I guide her down between the trees and bushes, making sure not to put her at risk of having her lovely dress torn, our hands remaining connected the whole time. Finally, we come to the place, a trickling waterfall wide as a canoe. It spills over stones and drizzles down a river, outlined by a ledge of giant rocks. The water swishes and swirls, spilling rainbows of light through its ripples. 

"Oh my," Linny breathes, her eyes wide in wonder as she gazes around. 

"I accidentally came here once when I got lost while driving, and I thought I should save this for sometime special."

She turns her smile to me, making everything sparkle even brighter for a second. Then the distant rumble turns her attention to the sky above the tree line, and she spots the shimmer of colours far away. 

"Are those fireworks?" she asks. 

"Yeah. I knew being too close to them would bother you, but this place has a perfect view without all the noise."

Linny's smile persists, her face flooding scarlet as she looks down and notices our hands still linked. I don't want to let go, but I have to when I recall something else. 

"Oh, and one more thing," I say. 

I reach into my purse and pull out two bottles of butterscotch soda. Linny accepts hers, her thumb brushing over the label while she examines it intently. 

"Thank you," sounds her gentle voice. "I..."

She trails off quickly, finishing with just a deep breath and a smile. I move forward and sit down on the edge of one of the rocks, letting my feet hang over, and Linny comes to join me, not worried about her knee touching mine. We both place our sodapops on the stone, and Linny clasps her fidgeting hands in her lap. While I watch her, I notice the faint glow of the fireworks in her eyes, mixing with the blue like paint in water. 

"You're staring at me," she whispers.

"Yeah, I am," I utter. 

Her eyes flutter away for a moment, but they soon find their way back onto mine, and I get the courage to say what I've only thought up until now.

"Linny, I...don't want our first kiss to be our only kiss."

"Me neither."

My smile grows, and she continues beaming right with me. 

After another moment, she breaks our quiet comfort to ask, "Would you like to be my romantic interest?"

That makes me grin even wider. "That's such a cute way to ask."

"So..."

I lean in and kiss her, creating fireworks that greatly outshine the ones in the sky. 

________________________________________

**Marty's POV**

I carry Cara in through the garage door on my back while they giggle and exclaim, "Weeeeee!"

"I can't believe they had to use the laughing gas on them," Buffy says. 

I set Cara down on the floor, and an angry look appears on their face.

"They played dirty," Cara says. "I would've won."

"Cara, you can't punch the orthodontist," Buffy states. 

"Why not? Don't they get worker's compensation for injuries?"

They kick off their shoes and step onto the floor with bare feet. 

"Woah. The tiles are so cold," they slur through their new braces. 

"Okay, it's time for you to get to bed," Buffy says. 

"Bed is stupid! Sleep is fake."

"Man, I wish that were true," I mumble. "Come on."

"No!"

"Alright," I huff. "We're just gonna—" I reach down and pick them up. "Okay."

"Nooooo!" they whine, but as soon as I start carrying them out of the mudroom, they change their perspective. "Oh my gosh. It's like a ride."

**Brayden's POV**

"Woooo!" my sibling cheers as my dad carries them past my doorway. 

My bedroom is empty. I assume Andreas is probably out with Jayda doing whatever they do. I like it, because it means I can play my classical music while studying geometry which is more of a foreign language to me than actual foreign languages are. I do, however, get a break from homework when Kelsey calls my cell phone. 

"Hello," I say. 

"Did you see Linny's Instapic story?"

"What is it?"

"Check."

I put my friend on speaker phone and open up my Instapic. When I tap on Linny's icon, I see an image of her hand intertwined with Hazel's while the two of them sit on a rock in some obscure spot of nature.

"Is that a waterfall?" I say, examining the photo further. "That is so romantic."

"I know, right!"

"I'm so happy for her."

"Me too. Anyway, I've got homework to finish. Have a magnificent night."

"You as well."

She hangs up, sending my phone to the home screen. I would just lock it and continue my schoolwork, but before I can, I see the red icon on my messages app. I have a notification. I assume it's probably from Kelsey texting before she called me, but when I open it, it's not. It's something way more unexpected: a text saying one word.

 **Deion:** Hey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed that. I'm going back to school this week, so I'ma try to get the next part published for next Monday, but please be patient with me. Only two more episodes left.


	166. S4 E13.1: Whatever Comes Next

**Brayden's POV**

_Hey._ What does that mean? Deion doesn't speak to me for a year, and now he finally does, and that's all he has to say? It's so enigmatical it hurts. 

For at least five minutes—the exact duration is lost on me—I consider my response. Type, delete, retype, delete, stop. Think. What does one say in this situation? Who else has been texted by their distance-torn soulmate after months of grimacing silence?

Eventually, I conclude that any possible response I could type would simply fall short of what I want to say yet also be too large a reply to just a one word _hey_. So I lock my phone and collapse on my bed, deciding to push this plot to another day.

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

Someone has a kazoo, and it's cutting above all the other noise in the cafeteria, but I try to ignore it and just listen to Cody talk with his mouth half-full from the other side of the table next to Jake.

"Wanna go to the zoo and try to break into the gorillas' area after school?"

Jake drops his granola bar instantly, shouting, "Yes!"

"I can't," I reply. "I'm hanging out with Hiral."

"Dude!" Cody groans.

I curl another rice noodle through my fork and ingest the bite.

Jake shakes his head. "Never thought you'd pick your girlfriend over us, since you always complained when we did that."

I swallow the noodles half in-tact, needing to argue this immediately. "Girlfriend? Hiral's not my girlfriend. Why would you think that?"

"Dude," Jake grumbles, "everyone thinks that. You hang out with her all the time."

"Yeah, 'cause she's my friend."

"Okay, man. Then you should tell everyone else that," Jake responds.

Jake picks up his granola bar and starts munching again, done with the topic. I glance down at my food but can't eat any more of it.

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

My phone's buzz mixes in with the clitters and rumbles of my video game, turning into sound sludge, so it takes me a moment hear it. When I do, I find a place to pause where I'm not about to be attacked by a giant radioactive spider, and I check my phone, seeing a notification from Hiral.

 **Hiral:** Where are you?

 **Me:** Felt sick. Had to go home.

No, I didn't. That's a lie.

 **Hiral:** Oh.I hope you feel better.

A few seconds of her typing.

 **Hiral:** But you could've told me rather than left me waiting at school for you to meet me so we could walk together to my place.

 **Me:** Yeah. Sorry.

Okay, yeah, was this a shitty thing to do? Yeah. Am I a jerk? Probably. Definitely. Yes, absolutely, this is a jerk thing to do, but I didn't know what else to do, because I don't want to hang out with her if she thinks we're dating, and I don't want to tell her that I don't want to hang out with her if she thinks we're dating, so, like, what do I do? 

She must think I'm a jerk too, because she types for a minute, but then the dotted bubble disappears, and my stomach twists worse than when a radioactive spider was eating my arm earlier. Soon I realize she's not gonna respond at all, so I lock my phone again, but I feel too guilty to just start playing my game again.

My sister comes clunking down the stairs at the same time as I drop my head down on the couch armrest.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey."

She leaves into the laundry room and comes out a second later with a spray bottle.

"Do you think window cleaner will work on shoes?" She wonders aloud.

"I don't know," I mumble.

She thinks on it for another minute before saying "Well, guess I'll find out."

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

The Spoon looks the exact same as always. I don't think it's changed a bit. The seats are still the same vibrant blue and red cushions they always were, and the wall is still a collection of various images and signs. White tile remains stuck on the walls, although you can see the age in the grout. Buffy and Cyrus stand on either side of me, gazing around at the place we know like home. We take one collective breath in and release it together like a wave of wind settling in the floor.

"So this is it," Buffy says.

"Yeah," I utter, "the last time we'll be able to eat baby taters together."

Cyrus is already a bit choked up as he adds, "I'm not emotionally prepared for this."

Behind us, Amber, TJ, Jonah, Walker, and Marty enter in, the door ringing hello for a final time. The eight of us choose seats at a table in the middle of the diner and sit down, taking in the feel of the smooth tabletop, every whiff of milkshakes and hamburger grease, everything we can before it's gone.

"We've had so many memories here," I reminisce. "It's hard to know it'll be gone." I glance over at my wife. "Remember when you got a job here?"

"Yeah, I remember the shock on your faces when you saw I was your server," she recalls with a chuckle.

"Or that time TJ apologized to a trash can," Cyrus mentions.

"Or extra napkins," Marty adds, giving Buffy a wry smile.

"Thanks for reminding me," Buffy responds. "I'll have to steal a bunch before we leave."

That makes the group laugh, and when it fades, it does so like a fire dying out in a candle, a trail of silent smoke dragging up after the flame is gone.

Next, Jonah looks at Walker and says, "I think I saw you here once."

"Probably," Walker replies.

"I'm gonna miss this place," I utter.

"Me too," Buffy agrees.

While we are all still looking around, memorizing every last inch of the diner, a server comes up with four baskets of baby taters and places them on the table.

Cyrus asks with furrowed brows, "Did we already order, and I forgot?"

"Nah," the server answers. "But I know what you're here for. You come here all the time. I remember the regulars.

She gives us a smile before turning away to carry on with her work. I pluck a baby tater from the basket in front of me and hold it up before me, the sad joy rippling through each of my breaths.

"How about one more tater theatre performance?" I ask.

Cyrus smiles wide and picks up a baby tater. "Gladly."

Then Buffy recites a melody I haven't heard in years. _"For the last time!"_

We all smile and laugh as we remember the moments attached to that song. This is the last time we'll sing _'for the last time'_ in The Spoon.

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

Linny's room is painted pale blue with floral designs she's done herself and redone a thousand times over. She's the only one on her bed, lying on her back with her head hanging over the end to watch me as I sit on a pillow on the floor. Linny lets her hand waterfall off her quilt, landing in Hazel's who sits on the ground, leaning against the bed frame. Kelsey leans against Linny's desk with her knees criss-cross while she listens to me explain my situation.

"Deion?" Kelsey repeats back to me. "Are you sure?"

"I've been staring at it for three days now," I respond. "I'm sure."

"He hasn't spoken to you in over a year," Linny states.

"I know! That's why I'm requesting your input on what the hell I'm supposed to say!"

"Well, what did he say?" Kelsey questions.

"'Hey.'"

"He never was one of formal dialect," Kelsey mutters.

"You could try, and this is a shot in the dark," Hazel chimes in, "responding with 'hey' back?"

"But I don't know what he wants!" I argue. "What could this possibly mean that he started texting me now? Does he want to be friends again, but online now? I don't see how it's possible to be friends with a lost lover in my fragile state."

Kelsey takes over, saying, "Solution: discover his intentions first, and then you can decide whether to open up."

"You overestimate my ability to control my emotions," I reply.

"I think you'll be just fine," Linny tells me, but she's half-distracted by whatever private conversation she's having with Hazel.

The two girls giggle quietly as they whisper into each other's ears. After some back and forth dialogue, Hazel presses a firm kiss to Linny's forehead, and Linny goes scarlet.

"Stop with your flirtation," I complain. "I'm in a crisis."


	167. S4 E13.2: Whatever Comes Next

**Wyatt's POV**

I keep my face on my locker as I stuff my backpack inside and grab my notebook for class. Elbows brush my spine as they pass behind me down the hallway, but nobody stops. Nobody stops until someone does, and I know who it is; I see the silver flower clip in her hair out of the edge of my eye.

"Hey," Hiral says.

I glance back, muttering, "Hey."

I don't keep a conversation. I still feel awkward. Does she think we're a couple? If she does, she's wrong. But, like, I don't think I ever did anything to make her think that? I also just don't understand relationship stuff at all, so maybe I did something by accident and had no idea.

Rather than move on, Hiral stays and asks, "You feeling better?"

"Yeah."

I see a glimpse of her nod, and then she steps away, and I now feel even more like a jerk than I did before. When I get to class, I see my desk, the empty one behind Hiral, but then I see the girls in the desks near her, and I see them watching me, making their judgements. I think I've just accepted that Hiral's never gonna talk to me again, because I choose the seat at the back corner, leaving my usual one bare, and the girls' whispers get louder.

________________________________________

**Wyatt's POV**

I was hoping to avoid Hiral for the rest of the day, and I almost did, but right as the last bell chimes, I find her already waiting by my locker. She doesn't look happy, and her winged eyeliner only exaggerates her angry look.

"How did you get to my locker before me?" I question. "The gym's on the other end of the school."

"I left early, because I knew you would avoid me otherwise."

"Mx. Franklin let you leave early?" I say surprised.

"I didn't ask, and they didn't stop me. Now what's going on with you?"

Her brown eyes burrow into me uncomfortably, so I drop mine down on my feet and shrug.

"I don't know.

"Poppycock," she retorts.

Frustrated, I shove my hand behind her to get to my locker, and she stumbles aside, giving me space to toss my books on my shelf and swing my backpack over my shoulder. I don't take the time to get my homework for tonight, because I don't want to stay around here any longer. Plus it's not like I'm gonna do it anyway. I shut my locker and head off down the hall, but Hiral only gets more annoyed, marching after me. I swirl around the other kids, but she stays on my tail, and when she catches up beside me, I finally give in, too bothered by the whole situation to hold it in.

"Did you tell people we were dating?" I grumble.

She looks completely caught off guard by that. "What? No! Of course not."

"Then why do people think that?"

I keep up my pace, and she continues to match it, having to jog a bit at points.

"People are dumb and presumptuous," she answers. "Why does it bother you so much? Do you like someone?"

"No," I snap. "That's—"

I cut off my own sentence and dip down the next hallway on the right. Hiral knows to follow me without me needing to tell her, and the two of us retreat from the buzz of the hallway into the school's storage room that they never keep locked. The door falls heavily shut, and I make my way past the old marching band uniforms and hockey nets toward the giant foam mats that sit stacked in a pile taller than me, my steps echoing off the pipe-striped ceiling. I chuck my backpack on the floor then hoist myself up onto the mats to sit atop the stack. Hiral does the same, her knees getting caught on the frills of her dress for a second before she frees herself and settles down next to me.

"Oh, so this is an equipment room kind of talk," she says. "Intriguing."

She looks at me for a minute or so, waiting for me to be ready to talk, but she doesn't pressure me. Nothing about it feels pushy at all. She's like a waterlily floating around, just going wherever I, the pond, feel comfortable. She kinda looks like a waterlily too in her light blue dress and green shoes.

"I don't like people," I finally confess. "Like, I don't get crushes, and I don't get what they are, and...I don't know. I've talked to my sister about this all before, and she says I don't need to get them, but everybody else does, so..."

"That's fine," Hiral replies when I run out of ways to explain what I'm trying to say. I look up from my hands to see her smiling gently at me as she continues saying, "Romance is more complicated than it's worth. My cousin's on her fourth spouse in ten years. Without the emotions of love, romance really isn't all that appealing."

"Tell me about it," I mutter.

There's a while of nothing, where she's just thinking, and I'm just wondering what she's thinking. Does she think I'm just immature or dumb or oblivious? I'm pretty sure I'm all of those things, but I don't think that's the reason I feel like this—or don't feel like this.

"You don't like girls?" Hiral suddenly asks. "Or anyone?"

I shake my head, looking down at my lap again, while Hiral ponders over that for another second.

"Then perhaps you're aroace," she guesses.

I look up at her and see the way she isn't judging me at all—not one bit—and I smile.

"You know what I am?" I speak.

She leans in a bit as she responds, "What?"

"Hungry. Wanna get tacos?"

She grins. "Yes, please."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

It's been 9 days now, and I still haven't responded to Deion's message. Can I even respond now? How would I explain not replying for this long? _I broke my phone. I dropped it in a lake, and it was drying. I accidentally forgot to check my messages for a week._ None of those seem in character. He would see right through it. But I don't want to not respond. I don't think I would forgive myself if I blew my chance to talk to him again.

I sit down on my bed and pick up my phone. About a minute is spent just staring at the messages app, contemplating whether to open it. Finally, I do, and now I need to choose what to say. Type. Retype. Delete. Type. No. Delete. Type. Um. Type. Okay.Send.

 **Me:** Hello

My eyes remain cemented to our text conversation for nearly five minutes until I realize he's not going to respond, at least not now. Feeling foolish, I lock my phone and fall back on my bed.

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

"Here you go," my mom says as she clinks the plate of food down on the table for my siblings and I to consume buffet style.

"Baby taters?" Cara says, examining the plate. "That's it?"

"It's the last chance you'll get to have them," Mom responds, "so stop complaining and appreciate it."

My sibling sighs and stuffs a couple baby taters in their mouth.

"Hey, about that," Dad says to Mom, "Buffy, can I talk to you?"

My parents leave the room to discuss whatever it is they're discussing. I couldn't care any less, for I'm too preoccupied checking my messages constantly to see if Deion's replied yet. Still nothing, and it's been at least an hour.

"Why do you keep checking your phone?" Andreas asks while popping a tater into his mouth.

I open the messages once again. I don't know if he's read it or not. Maybe he changed his mind entirely. Maybe he realized he didn't mean to text me at all. Maybe I was just a mistake.

I drop my phone on the table and sigh, "I don't know."

________________________________________

**Jayda's POV**

The gold tassel swings as I toss my royal blue graduation cap on my bed with the blue gown. Tomorrow I'm going to be graduating. This is what the past twelve years of cramming and all-nighters before due dates has been about. It's weird to think that I won't be in high school anymore.

I send a picture of the garments to Cayenne who responds in a second.

 **Cayenne:** Oh, right, graduation's tomorrow.

 **Me:** You forgot?

 **Cayenne:** No.

 **Cayenne:** Okay, yeah, but in my defence, I've been binging 2020's sitcoms for the past week, so real life lowkey doesn't exist for me right now.

I'm about to respond when my brother stops in my doorway and looks at my gown.

"Blue and gold," he comments. "You hate that combination."

"I know. It's disgusting," I reply. "My school has awful taste. Anyway, what do you want?"

Wyatt steps through the doorframe and leans on the wall right beside it, tucking his hands in his jeans pockets as he smiles faintly and gathers his words before answering my question.

"I think me and Hiral are soulmates."

"Wait, so you like her now?" I question, confused.

"No," he corrects me. "Soulmates can be platonic. I think we were meant to be friends."

I've never really considered that before. I guess to me soulmates have always been romantic, but there's no reason why that would be a rule.

"I like that," I reply.

He smiles and utters, "Me too."


	168. S4 E13.3: Whatever Comes Next

**Cyrus's POV**

The field is covered in rows of chairs all filled by the friends and family of the students. Ahead of them, the graduating class sits, their blue gowns like a pacific wave stretching across the grass. A stage has been set up with a podium on top and some of the school's staff are up there, too, in chairs. Guidance counsellors don't get to partake in the graduation ceremony, so I'm with my family in the regular seating.

I lay my jacket over my chair and sit down beside TJ and Wyatt. Farther to my left, Buffy snatches a small, wooden rubber band gun out of Cara's hands. I'm not sure what they were planning to do with that, but it's probably best Buffy noticed it. Beyond them are the Kippen-Macks, and to my right is Jonah's family.

Seeing that Cara's now taken out a second toy, this one being a ball on a stick that Cara starts trying to swing and catch on the peg on top, Buffy shoots her child a stern look.

"Your brother's graduating," Buffy states. "Give him your attention."

"Are we sure he's graduating?" Cara counters. "It seems unlikely."

Not noticing the conversation unfolding beside us, TJ turns to me and says, "Can you believe Jayda's already graduating?"

"Without summer school, too," I add.

"She'll be off to college next year, and Wyatt will be in high school. They're growing up so fast."

"Yeah," I agree. "Time is funny like that. The older you get, the faster it goes. That's why we have to cherish it."

"Well, I'm glad I chose to spend it with you," TJ says with a smile. He holds my gaze for a moment before speaking again. "I love you. I don't know if I say it enough."

That makes me grin, and I tell him, "Don't worry. You do."

________________________________________

**Brayden's POV**

The valedictorian's speech was average. I've heard almost the same one before multiple times in movies. And that's only what I caught whenever I was able to tune out the buzzing silence of my cell phone angrily laying dead and dark in my palm. Deion still hasn't replied. At this point, I don't think he ever will. I click on my phone again to have another desperate look.

"You okay?" Hazel asks.

"No, I am not," I huff.

She places her hand on my wrist, an act that feels like pity.

"Hazel, I know you're trying to comfort me, but it's really not working."

"Hey," Auntie Andi whispers to us, "they're starting with the names now."

I do my best to give my attention to the principal as he begins listing off the list of graduates, but even as the crowd applauds for each student that crosses the stage, I can't keep my eyes from flickering back to my phone every few seconds.

"Andreas Driscoll."

My brother gets up and mounts the stage, waving to his friends in a way radiates stereotypical coolness. As he passes midway across the stage, she stops to take a bow, and his hat falls off. He saves it with a smooth catch and looks back up, grinning, before carrying on to stand with the rest of the graduates on the side.

Jayda's goth friend goes up right before her, and I'm actually very impressed by how fast and elegantly Jayda manages to walk in her 6-inch heels. Our families clap as she reaches the other end of the stage, but before my hands even touch together, my phone screen lights up, and my entire body has a moment of pure panic like a refrigerator tipping over a stairwell.

 **Deion:** Sorry I didn't respond. I had to put my phone on airplane mode."

 **Me:** Airplane mode? For what?

 **Deion:** Hey, how far are you from Red Rooster Records?

Red Rooster Records. Red Rooster— He's— That's impossible. How—?

I spring out of my chair, like a battery struck by lightning. Hazel watches me in puzzlement.

"You're leaving?" she questions.

"Yes."

I slide past my family members in their seats, not bothering to answer any of their questions either. I don't have time. I don't have time, because I've already let too much slip through my hands, and now I finally have a chance at grasping it again. I don't want to let it go. I don't want to let him go. I don't even know if this is real. It can't be real, can it? Honestly, I've had moments where I've wondered if my entire memory of him was just a daydream.

At my desperate pace, it only takes me five minutes to get to Red Rooster Records, and that's when I see him, and his existence is confirmed, his beautiful existence leaning against the glass window of the record store with his hands in his pockets. The sunlight drips off his dark skin, lighting him up gold, and the breeze rustles his loose, black T-shirt. He looks a tad different; his jaw is sharper, his eyes deeper. But I would recognize even just a speckle of his face. I know it all too well to ever mix up. I stop at the end of the block, catching my breath and trying to gather enough to say his name, but as I stare at his fluorescent figure, I realize I've gone mute. I thought this was just something that happens in stories and movies. I didn't realize it was actually possible to have your words stolen like this. But then Deion sees me, and he smiles that familiar slight smile that makes my entire body go weak as frost melting into dew. He removes his hands from his pockets and makes his way over to me, slowly, as if trying to make every step burn as much as he can without setting the whole earth on fire.

"Sorry for just showing up," he says.

His voice got lower. And good lord, it's attractive.

"No apology necessary," I finally get myself to reply. "But what are you doing here?"

A smile curls his lips. "Checking out my new school."

My eyes must be wider than the Atlantic, for he chuckles a little at my expression.

I begin to mutter, "How...?"

"Turns out my cousins were moving out, and they wanted my grandma's house more than we did. I spent a long time convincing my mom, but she eventually figured out that I really wanted to be here."

It must be because of me, right? What other reason would he come back? And why would he meet me here if it weren't for me? Still, part of me doubts it. This is simply too good to be true.

"Why's that?" my shaky voice asks.

He grins. "Since when do you ask dumb questions like that?"

I feel my face heat up as my stomach flutters. "Because of me?"

He holds his smile on me, our stare intertwining carefully until he suddenly breaks it to flick his eyes down then up again.

"You didn't find someone else, did you?" he checks.

"So we're both asking dumb questions, I see."

His grin returns as wide as mine, and then he steps toward me, meeting me halfway where we kiss, only our second kiss, but you would guess it was the millionth by the way we lock together instantly. We were built for this, I swear. We were simply created to be together. It's the only explanation. The best part of kissing him now is that there's no plane waiting to take off. There's no time limit, and we make the most of that.

________________________________________

**Jonah's POV**

Walker, Austen, and I step into our home after the graduation ceremony, and I'm greeted by the kitchen skylight that shines through the open space into the living room. The fuzz of the deep red sofas shimmers the way the glass coffee table does. It has rounded edges to make sure Austen doesn't hurt herself running into it. Currently, it's covered in wooden toy trains taken down from the bookcase which is filled with more toys than books.

"I forgot for a second that we lived here," I state as I remove my shoes on the new, straw mat we got when we moved in.

"I know," Walker responds. "You drove past it and had to make a U-turn.

Austen dashes in and leaps onto the couch, letting her dress float down like a parachute on the cushions.

"I'll get the appetizers out," Walker says, "and the other are getting here soon, I expect."

Walker must be psychic like Jayda, because TJ and Cyrus open the front door almost as soon as he says that. The two of them gawk at the house in awe as they come in for the first time. We moved in officially this morning, because the old owners didn't care at all about waiting longer to leave. We got the keys only days after we bought it.

"Wow," Cyrus says. "I never imagined this place looked so appealing inside. We've lived next to it for years but haven't been inside."

"Yeah, it's perfect," Walker agrees.

Then I ask, "Where's Jayda?"

"I think she must be coming with Andreas and Buffy's family," TJ guesses.

Right on cue, the Driscolls enter in with only two of their four kids, those two being the youngest, Cara on their phone, and Declan playing with Buffy's hair while she holds him on her hip.

Buffy looks around at the house then to Cyrus and TJ, saying, "Andreas isn't here?"

"Jayda's not with you?" TJ counters.

"Typical," Cara huffs. "Arriving late to their own party. And where's Brayden?"

"Didn't he drive himself?" Marty says.

"He can't drive," Buffy reminds her husband. "He's fifteen."

"Well, damn," Marty mumbles.

**Jayda's POV**

Cayenne stands hugging her girlfriend, Amara, the girl dressed in a mint green skirt and top, with silver wire elf ears cuffing her own. Cayenne's also shed her cap and gown, posing in her all-black outfit, while I take the photo of the two of them. When I snap the shot, I pass Amara's phone back to her, and she thanks me.

"I'm gonna go find Andreas now," I tell them.

"I'll see you Sunday for rollerskating?" Cayenne checks as I'm turning away.

"Definitely," I reply.

I give my friends another wave before twirling around and taking off through the crowd of graduates all trying to get their best photos, since they'll never get this chance again. I step onto the street, crossing the split between the school field and the public park on the other side. There, flowers line the walkways, winding through arches of stone, leading toward a large fountain in the centre. I see Andreas standing in front of the dancing water, the blue a moving background for his black dress pants and white button-down, which is wrinkled from being hidden under his gown all day. My turquoise dress is still fairly wrinkle-free, because of the satin material it's made of. I planned ahead for this.

"Did everyone else leave already?" I ask as I approach my boyfriend.

"I think so," he replies.

I nod, and quickly my mind gets lost in the curl dangling over his forehead and the curve of his cheek and the smile he's looking at me with.

"It's kind of unreal," I say. "Like, we're done high school."

"Well, we could still fail our finals."

"Oh, right, that's a thing."

"But we'll hopefully pass."

"I mean, if I can figure out what a tangent is, then I should be fine."

We both laugh a bit, and I glance around again, looking back at my old high school for another moment.

"And then we're going to college," I says.

"It's weird to think about. We're not kids anymore."

I bring my attention back to him, and his eyes pull mine like ropes tied tight, linking me permanently with him. But the metaphorical link isn't enough, so I reach out and slide my hand into his. He watches with a smile then rubs his thumb across my fingers. After another moment, he raises my hand up to his lips and graces it with a kiss before letting it down again, still held in his. It's right now that I realize something vital, something I've always known, but it didn't hit me until now.

"Andreas, I don't want to ever not be with you," I tell him. "And I feel like I've done a lot of stupid things and almost messed us up so many times, and I don't want to do that again."

My arm tingles, the feeling rising from where his thumb continues to stroke the top of my hand. This is perfection—this right here, us. I want everything about this to be forever.

My breath stutters as I add, "And I'm too broke to buy a ring, but..."

His grin rises with his eyebrows as he realizes what I'm trying to say. "Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

Speechless by the nerves of the moment, I just nod.

He narrows his eyes harder as he says, "You want to get married? Wait, you're not pregnant, are you?"

"Not as far as I know," I assure him.

"Okay, good. Then no."

The answer, so blunt and harsh, tears me up immediately. He didn't even need to think.

"Oh," I mutter, feeling humiliated for making the suggestion.

But then Andreas laughs and lets go of my hands as he says, "No, because I was planning to ask you later, but I guess now works."

My mouth drops open as he kneels down on the stone ground and reaches into his pocket. Out comes a tiny black box, but he doesn't open it yet. He holds it firm between both his hands while taking in a breath.

With a nervous chuckle, he begins to speak, "Jayda, I love you. You know that. I've loved you since grade nine when I purposefully broke my pen and stained your sleeve, and you got so pissed at me." He laughs again at the memory. "I didn't know I needed you yet then, but I did know that you deserved so much more than you knew. And you've made me happier than I've ever been. And I'm gonna be honest: I'm a bit mad that you beat me to it, but Jayda Destiny Kippen—" he opens the box to unveil a glittering gold ring with a diamond, a small one, but he must've been saving up for this for forever, and that makes it so perfect "—will you marry me?"

I swear my eyeliner must be so smudged from tears as I answer, "Obviously!"

He laughs and takes the ring out of the box then slips it on my finger. It sparkles sunshine and reflects the blue water of the fountain that applauds for us in beating droplets. When Andreas stands again, I don't waste any time. I kiss him. I kiss my fiancé.


	169. S4 E13.4: Whatever Comes Next

**Amber's POV**

My daughter carefully wraps her hand around Linny's, positioning it perfectly at Linny's guidance. The two of them sit on one of the couches in Jonah and Walker's living room, laughing and chatting together. Andi and I watch from the kitchen island while sipping Bubly sparkling waters, the rest of our families hanging out on the other seating. Austen and Declan play together with Austen's dolls on the carpet, the girl directing the boy on how to dress them, while Cara and Wyatt converse in the dining room. Nobody knows where Brayden, Andreas, or Jayda are, but we're assuming they'll turn up. When I look at Andi, she has shiny eyes as she observes our daughter.

"Andi, how are you doing?" I ask.

"I don't know," she admits. "She's getting older so quick. Feels like just yesterdy she was using us as lab rats while staining our wall with ink."

"And now she is almost an adult and has a girlfriend and a car and already knows who she's voting for in the next federal election," I say. "Time really flies."

"I feel like we've all been through so much in the past few years," Andi utters.

"Especially you," I agree. "And you've been so brave. Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less from Andi Mack."

Andi smiles at me, but soon she stops to instead step in and kiss my lips. Instantly, I get flashbacks to us doing this back when we were teenagers: the taste of coconut lip balm, the scent of acrylic paint, and the sound of The 1975 playing on her crackly Bluetooth stereo. We split apart at the sound of Bex and Bowie greeting everyone as they enter in, Bowie carrying a dish he probably cooked himself.

"Are we late?" Bex asks.

"Nope," TJ answers.

"We have no idea where the graduates are anyway," Buffy adds.

**Hazel's POV**

"Your necklace is twisted." Linny reaches for the rose pendant on my chest but then freezes in mid-air to ask, "May I?"

"Go for it."

She smiles and flips the flower around to let the detailed side show. Pleased, she drops her hand, but something about her blueberry eyes and slightly slanted smile sparks a whim to kiss her. I give in to it, and she lets me, pressing her lips hard to mine.

Suddenly, even more people enter the house, but it isn't my cousins. Rather, it's my friends, Fatima, Darius, Kelsey, and Aimée. They all say hi as they come over to join us in the living room.

"Where are your cousins?" Fatima wonders, looking around.

"No clue," I reply.

"Where's Brayden?" Kelsey then asks.

"He left during the ceremony," I explain.

Kelsey furrows her brows in confusion, but I unfortunately can't give her more information than that, because I know nothing else.

Then Aimée steps forward to say, "Not to change the subject, but, um, I'm using she/they pronouns now, so, uh, yeah."

"Cool, lovely," I respond with a smile, and I can see her nervousness subside.

"Oh my goodness," Linny breathes out of the blue.

She stares out the window, looking stunned by something that I can no longer see.

"What?" Kelsey asks.

That's when Brayden comes through the door, alongside a boy I recognize from the many photos I've seen. Not only am I surprised, but the whole room is. It seems nobody was expecting to see this boy step into this house today, let alone step into this town. He looks down, uncomfortable with all the eyes, so Brayden takes his hand, instantly comforting him.

"Deion?" Auntie Buffy says in shock. "You're back?"

"Yeah," Deion replies shyly.

"For how long?" Uncle Marty asks.

Deion turns his eyes onto Brayden and answers, "For good."

Brayden smiles wide at that, but I can tell he's trying to keep it contained. He's failing miserably. He and Deion walk over to us, and Brayden begins introducing Deion to each of us.

"Deion, you know Kelsey and Linny, and these are my other friends, and my cousin."

"Hey," Deion says with a small wave.

"You're Deion," I state, giving him a scan down and up. "Huh."

"Your romance won't be so tragical after all," Linny says.

Deion looks over at Brayden, and Brayden smiles.

"It appears it won't," Brayden says.

**Andreas's POV**

After parking my car, I'm about to open my door to get out, but Jayda rushes to undo her seatbelt, shouting, "Wait!"

She shoves the passenger's side door open and jogs around the car to take the handle for my door and pull it open. I grin as I exist my car, my eyes holding constant on Jayda. _God, she's perfect._ Once I'm out, she swings the door shut, and I lock my car then stuff my keys in my pocket.

"Thanks," I say.

"You're welcome," she replies with a proud smile.

I lace my hand with hers as we walk toward Jonah and Walker's front door. When we finish climbing the steps of the porch, Jayda stops and turns to me to ask a question.

"So do you want to tell them, or do you want me to tell them?"

"We'll tell them together."

She smiles, and I smile, which makes both of us laugh a bit, and then she finally takes the door handle and opens up the door. Everyone immediately looks to us, greeting us with congratulations on graduating.

Soon, the noise dies down enough for me to take the spotlight, saying, "We also have something else—"

"Oh my god, you're engaged!" Hazel freaks before I can finish my sentence, her eyes caught on the glimmer on my fiancée's left hand.

The room bursts as the rest of our families see it too, and Jayda turns pink under the attention.

"Yeah," she confirms. "We're engaged."

Her dads come up to us right away, their eyes swapping between Jayda and I repeatedly.

"Guess the 10:00 pm rule's out the window now," TJ says.

"That still a rule?" I respond.

"We're really happy for both of you," Cyrus says. "You're kind of young, but—"

TJ cuts him off by whispering in his ear, "Cyrus, we got engaged at our graduation too."

"Oh, yeah," Cyrus remembers then puts on a smile. "Never mind."

My parents join the huddle, the two of them looking a bit surprised still but overall happy.

Mom glances to Cyrus to ask him, "Did you ever think our kids would get married?"

"If we had, we wouldn't have gone with the whole cousins thing," TJ says.

Next, my dad throws his arm over my mom's shoulder, asking her, "How are you doing, Driscoll? Our son's all grown up. Getting married. Moving out." He pauses and looks at me. "You're moving out, right? 'Cause you can't live in the basement."

"He better not!" Cara chimes in from the dining room. "I have plans to turn that into my gaming den!"

"We still have three more kids around," Mom states. "I'll be fine."

"Wow, thanks, Mom," I say dryly.

My mom rolls her eyes and outstretches her arms, saying, "Come here." She pulls me into a hug, releasing after a few seconds. "I am so proud of who you've become, you know that."

I smile and respond, this time for real, "Thanks, Mom."

With the parents having had their word, Wyatt comes up to us and just says, "Congrats," gives a thumbs up, then leaves.

Hazel takes his place, saying, "I'm so happy for you both." Then her smile drops as she pulls Jayda aside to whisper, "You're not pregnant, right?"

"No," she hisses. "Why does everybody think that? I'm just in love."

"Just making sure." She comes back over to me again and tells us both, "You two are gonna be great together. Honestly, ever since hearing you both confide in me two years ago about your feelings for each other, I knew you were made to be together. You also both get, like, the exact same grades, and if that's not destiny, I don't know what is."

"I agree with Hazel," Brayden joins in, coming over.

"Hold up," I say, my focus thrown by the boy standing with Brayden. "That's Deion."

"Oh, yes," Brayden responds. "We explained this all, but you weren't here, so I'll explain it again. Deion's back. That's basically it."

I nod. "Cool."

All of a sudden, my dad takes the attention as he says, "Buffy and I also have an announcement."

Everyone quiets down to hear what he has to say.

"You know how The Spoon's going out of business? Well, it's not. We bought it."

Andi's jaw drops the lowest as she echoes back, "You bought The Spoon?"

Jonah runs up to my dad and engulfs him in a hug as he says, "Marty, you're a god!"

"I would've greatly missed greasy baby taters every week," my brother says. "Now my parents own them."

"Does this mean we get free baby taters?" his friend, Fatima, asks.

"Probably not," Dad answers, "seeing as we're currently in debt."

"Anything's free if nobody sees you take it," Cara comments.

Aimée looks toward my sibling and says, "I am both so concerned for you and so impressed at the same time."

"Hey, now that The Spoon's staying around, maybe we'll have our wedding there," I say.

Jayda immediately turns to me and states, "We're not having our wedding there."

"Never mind."

"Hey, I've got this graduation cake here," Jonah chirps, reminding us all why we're here in the first place. "I can get out some icing and make it an engagement cake too."

"Yes! Cake!" Cara cheers.

While our families all gather around the kitchen island to get the dessert, Jayda pulls my hand toward her, guiding me closer. Her brown eyes flutter, flickering between mine and my lips as she smiles.

"I love you," she whispers.

With a teasing grin, I reply, "No kidding."

She rolls her eyes, and I follow up with a kiss that melts her annoyance instantly like candle wax.

"Okay, come get some cake," TJ calls out to us.

"No. Let them kiss," Cara counters. "I'll have their pieces."

Jayda and I break apart, laughing. I give her a glance and offer out my hand, which she takes. Feeling the metal ring around her finger lock with mine, I lead her over to join the rest of our families.


	170. S4 E13.5: Whatever Comes Next

**Walker's POV**

I finish putting the last container of Bowie's kugel into fridge as Jonah comes into the kitchen, the sunset sky lighting up the house in orange and turning him into a silhouette. His messy hair sticks up, each strand outlined by the fading sun.

"Living room's all cleaned up," he says. "That was a fun party."

"Yeah," I agree with a smile. "Eventful. An engagement and a business venture all at once."

"I don't know about you, but I'm pretty excited. Seems like the future's gonna be pretty good."

"Yeah. I think so too."

Jonah's hand finds its way around my waist as he steps up and kisses me sweetly, radiating the same pinks, golds, and fire reds as the sundown. We drift apart when we hear the pitter patter of our daughter's feet running into the kitchen.

"Daddies, can I have story?"

"Of course you can," Jonah answers.

"Can I have moonwalk to bed?"

Jonah smiles and picks her up by her armpits, lifting her into the air then landing her back down while she giggles. He repeats the launch and drop all the way through the room.

As they get to the stairs, Austen shouts to me, "Lolly, come!"

"I'm coming," I tell her. "Don't worry."

________________________________________

**Buffy's POV**

Marty glances at the TV as he sits down beside me on the couch, wrapping his arm over me.

"Weather channel, huh? Not my taste, but you do you."

I look at the screen, realizing what's playing. I haven't even been paying attention to it. I've been so lost in thought that I didn't notice I'd even changed the channel. I pick up the remote and press the off button, making the light from the TV dissipate instantaneously, leaving the room in the dimness of just the kitchen lights spilling over into the living room.

"I was thinking," I say.

"About what?" my husband asks.

"About how Andreas is getting married, and Brayden's fifteen and only a few years behind. Cara's growing up so much."

"Declan's got a while still," Marty adds.

"Yeah, but it all just goes so fast."

"Yeah. I mean, the last four years have felt more like ten months."

"Yeah."

Electricity hums as it runs through the ceiling, filling in the night silence with its white noise.

"Thank you," I utter after a minute.

"What did I do?" Marty wonders.

"You're just incredible, and I can't imagine my life without you."

He smiles. "Back at you."

"How romantic," I reply sarcastically.

Marty chuckles then pulls me in tighter against him so that I can rest my head on his chest.

"Buffy, I knew since day one, when I first spoke to you at Andi's party, that I was gonna spend the rest of my life with you."

"Aw, there's the romance."

I lift my chin up, and he meets me with a kiss that brings me back to our first one outside Andi's party when I didn't know how to say what I was feeling, and now it comes so naturally to me. Everything with him comes naturally to me.

________________________________________

**Andi's POV**

"Tea for you all." My dad places down the tray of mugs on the table, all filled to the brim with maple tea, the tea bags still steeping. I'm impressed he didn't spill any.

My mom and wife each choose a cup after me, and we all take sips then immediately regret it.

"I didn't think I needed to tell you it's hot," Dad says while we pant for cool air.

"Yeah, I'm just preoccupied at the moment," I confess, setting down my steaming mug to let it cool longer.

"It seems like everyone is today," Amber says. "Jayda's not even my daughter, but she feels like one. We used to take her shopping when she was a toddler, and now she's an adult."

"And Hazel's going to be an adult next year too," I state. "I don't know if I'm ready."

"Andi, here's a parenting secret," my mom says. "Nobody's ever ready for their kids to grow up. But they do, and we just have to make the most of every moment while we can."

"And we make scrapbooks," my dad adds.

Amber smiles at me, saying, "I guess we'll have to start one."

"How about a 3-D scrapbook?" I suggest.

Amber places her hand over my fingers, her soft touch easing my fear of the future.

"Sounds amazing," she says.

________________________________________

**TJ's POV**

The moment Cyrus lies down under the covers of our bed, I tilt my head toward him, able to make out only his shape in the blackness of the room, but I know him well enough to fill in the details with my mind.

"How are you feeling?" I ask him.

"Mildly nervous," he replies. "I don't know what's going to happen next."

"Well, I think we'll get dinner at The Spoon, and Jayda's gonna ask us for help picking out a wedding outfit. Actually, let's be real: Andreas and Jayda don't have the money for a wedding yet, so we've got at least another year before that happens."

Cyrus is quiet, but he's smiling. I can't see it, but somehow I know it. I just know him.

"Wyatt seemed happy today too," he says. "Happier."

"I noticed too. Do you know why?"

"No. But as long as he's happy, I'm happy."

"Same here."

At that, I prop myself with my elbow and lean over to give him a kiss on the forehead, but as I'm about to lie down again, I pause.

"Here's to whatever comes next," I whisper.

Cyrus returns with a kiss to my lips that turns the darkness into a starlit sky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is the end! Thank you guys so much for reading and sticking with me for this long! Honestly, this fanfiction has meant so much to me. It kept my quarantine from being terrible, and I looked forward to writing every episode and reading your comments throughout. I hope you all felt satisfied with this ending. I know there are still a few things that have been left open, so feel free to ask any questions in the comments about characters or plots, and I will answer them. Have a very beautiful day and life. I currently don't have any plans to write another fanfiction, but I'm definitely not ruling it out. Goodbye, and thank you all.


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